What's a Girl to Do? (Season 7)
by originella
Summary: 15 months have passed since Murphy told Nicholas to run, and now things have changed for the South Side girl. Now, she is engaged to Tommy Matthews, and running Patsy's Pies; on the outside of things, they look positive. However, her children are living with Ian, and her relationship with Tommy is not what it seems. Missing Nicholas, Murphy knows she must help him at all costs.
1. I Was Wrong

Chapter One: I Was Wrong

I can feel the impact that the wooden floor has had on the side of my face almost immediately after I've come to. Slowly, so as not to potentially wake up the sleeping monster—for where he is, I had no idea—I put my palms down onto the floor and push myself upwards. Knowing from the other times this has happened, I have to regulate myself to a sitting position, for if I try to get immediately to my feet, I know I could stumble and potentially fall into something, thus alerting my captor, and, theoretically, get knocked around again.

Sitting in the center of the semi-dark living room puts things into perspective—the toys that my children had in their respective corners were no longer there, and their bedrooms upstairs had been cleared out. Now, for over a year since Nicholas had run off to evade the law, I'd been living under one roof with Tommy. He'd gotten the kids out of there pretty quickly, telling me to send them off to Ian's, likely because he wanted me all to himself. Slowly but surely, I'd stopped most of my communication with my family, for Tommy had eyes everywhere, and there would be hell to pay if I got out of line.

Tonight was no exception; tonight I had gone to the firm's office—considered a safe spot—and had seen Nicholas for the first time in a year and a half, since he had gone. It was our second-year wedding anniversary, and I had chosen the day like a bad omen. Immediately when I had seen Nicholas, holed up in a secluded office out of sight of security cameras at the back of the building, all I could think about was what I'd lost. I'd pocketed the engagement ring from Tommy, not wanting Nicholas to see it, and pushed open the door. It was faster than lightning that we'd gone over to each other, and the fact that we'd made love was the understatement of the century.

However, when I returned home that night, Tommy was waiting for me; his feet were up, and he was watching some game on the flat screen. As I took off my winter clothes carefully, I hid the documents from him, knowing I would have to make up an excuse that they had come in the mail the following day. As I stepped into the living room, I caught sight of the Old Style Beer bottle in Tommy's hand, and knew to tread carefully, due to his attitude when he was drunk. I was no so lucky, however, and it wasn't long before I was clocked in the head by the beer bottle and rendered unconscious on the living room floor.

I reached upwards then, assessing the damage Tommy had committed towards me that night, and was relieved when there was no glass in my head. Just a dried wound, but Tommy likely wouldn't approve of me going to the hospital to get it fixed up; he'd likely want to do the stapling himself, without pain medication for me. Shaking my head, I braced myself against the arm of the couch, and carefully moved to get to my feet. My stomach did flip flops as I did so, and I moved to cross to the kitchen, getting out a bottle of water from the fridge, and a pair of pain killers from the cabinet.

Once I'd washed down the medication, I leaned up against the counter, gripping the plastic bottle in my hand. What had I done in the last eighteen months to get from loving marriage, to yet another abusive relationship? I knew full well that my marriage to Nicholas wasn't perfect, but I also knew that he would never beat me to the point of being unconscious. The only time Nicholas had ever hit me was that final day, on my say-so, when I told him to run, and he immediately regretted it afterwards. I sighed, checking the time on the oven clock, and saw that it was after eleven, and that I'd better get upstairs and try to sleep, knowing that I had to open the diner bright and early the next morning.

I drank the rest of the water, and shakily threw it into the recycling bin as I carefully moved through the living room, switching off the lamp on the table beside the couch as I turned towards the stairs, gripping tightly to the bannister. Slowly, I made my way to the first landing, knowing full well that Tommy would hear me, but secretly hoping that my punishment for that evening would prove to be over. Finally, I made it up the final stretch before walking down the hallway and into the master bedroom, where Tommy shifted in the bed, letting me know he was waiting for me.

Carefully, I stripped down in the darkness on my side of the bed, and then moved to the chest of drawers, but Tommy cleared his throat from behind me. Immediately, the hairs on every inch of my body stood on end, and as I gripped the drawers before me, I hesitated, not knowing if I should speak. I waited in the darkness for Tommy to speak, knowing that I could get clocked again if I spoke first.

"You remember the rules, Murphy."

I did my best not to sigh in exasperation, and I merely shut my eyes briefly in the darkness, hating it when hot tears escaped them. Quickly, I dashed them from my eyes and released my grip upon the chest of drawers, and slowly turned around to face him in the darkness. Slowly, I took off my bra and panties, and hesitated, waiting for further instructions, my hands wrapped around my body, which was now bruised and frail from the last eighteen months of terrible treatment I'd endured.

"Go wash yourself," Tommy said, snapping his fingers in the direction of the master bathroom in a voice filled with loathing. "I know you were with him tonight, and I don't want you to smell like him when you get into our bed."

I nodded slowly then, crossing to the bathroom and shutting the door behind me before switching on the light. I was permitted to have the door shut, but not locked, as that was yet another one of Tommy's rules he'd put in place. I crossed the bathroom then and got a good look at myself; my eyes were red-rimmed and had purple bruises beneath each, and my skin seemed to slacken and hang off every part of me. Lowering my eyes, I got a good look at my family tree tattoo, which Tommy had slashed that night with his pocket knife before he had taken the bottle to my head. I remembered his words, about how I didn't need any of them anymore, before he clocked me with the bottle, and stomped on the space between my breasts, where Nicholas's name had been tattooed shortly after he'd run away.

I immediately moved to cover my body, ashamed of its reflection, as I moved towards the shower, knowing full well that Tommy would burst in there at any moment if I didn't make a move to follow orders. I turned on the faucet carefully, adjusting it to a halfway decent temperature before I swung my leg over the bath and got beneath the stream of water, before I pulled the curtain all around me. I turned ever so slightly underneath the water to get a better angle, and caught a glimpse of the house where my children now lived in between a space of the curtains, and out through the window. A lump rose in my throat as I considered them all then, safe, living with Ian and Liam, and knew that none of them could ever know what I was subjected to behind closed doors.

Methodically, I made a grab for my shampoo and scrubbed it into my hair and on my scalp, doing my best not to cry. I cried so much these days—and took ample opportunity to do so when I was alone—that my eyes burned nearly every hour of every day. It was becoming so difficult to even produce tears that, if I ever did, I could be blind for minutes at a time. Shaking my head as I tilted my head back to rid my hair of my shampoo, the lump rose in my throat again, as I wondered, for the umpteenth time, how did I get here?

. . .

 _In the weeks after my arrest and then spending the night in jail, I found that actually going to the firm for hours on end seemed to be alarming to me. I was shocked when Allie and Hugo told me to take as much time off as I needed and, since I usually took some time off in the summer anyway to spend with the kids, I found that now was the perfect opportunity to get myself back into the swing of things personally. I spent a lot of time with Ian as well, fresh from his breakup with Trevor, and, on other days when I needed to get out of the house and Allie volunteered to watch the kids, I would help out Fiona in the diner._

" _You don't know what a relief it is to have you come in here and help me out," Fiona said one afternoon during the lunch rush. "V can come in during breakfast, but has to leave when it gets to be noon, to help Kev over at The Alibi."_

 _I gave her a nod, from where I stood behind the counter, wiping down the lunch menus for any excess stains that might've been overlooked by yesterday's staff. "Happy to help, Fiona. I may not approve of your personal life right now, but, as your sister, I reserve the right to form my own opinions about it."_

 _Fiona sighed then, just loud enough to get me to look up at her, and I saw then that her hands were placed on her hips. "If you've got something to say to me, Murph, then say it. Like you said, you're my sister, and I need you to be honest with me. Please."_

 _I rolled my eyes, stacking the menus together before placing them in the wooden holding bin and throwing the rag beneath the counter onto a shelf where its brothers and sisters were kept. "I know you know that everyone gave me the blow-by-blow on Jimmy."_

 _Fiona looked annoyed. "So?"_

 _I scoffed. "So?! Jesus, Fi. The man's a liar and a con-artist."_

 _Fiona pursed her lips. "Please, Murph. I know for a fact that Nicholas isn't perfect twenty-four/seven either. Cut Jimmy a break."_

 _I raised my eyebrows. "We're not talking about my husband, Fiona. We're talking about your boyfriend who fucking walked out on you and the kids after his father-in-law pretty much sold him into slave labor or some shit in a third-world country!"_

 _Fiona dragged her hands through her hair. "I don't know what you want me to do here, Murph, really. I've been single since me and Ford called it quits and Jimmy's never made me feel like anyone before..."_

 _I made a sound of exasperation. "I may understand that analogy, Fi, but that doesn't mean I approve of it."_

" _Why the hell not, Murph?"_

 _I stepped towards her then and took her by the shoulders; I may have been a good four and a quarter inches shorter than she was, but I was South Side through and through—a fucking pistol—and this was my big sister and nothing, or nobody, was gonna hurt her again. "Because he fucking hurt you, Fi, and nobody has my permission to hurt my family!" I whispered to her then, squeezing her shoulders tightly so as to drive the point home. "Why the hell would you stay with someone who fucking did that to you? Sure he didn't smack you around, but he fucked your mind up real good..."_

 _Fiona looked shocked at this declaration; I'd hardly said much to her, after the initial talk we'd had about spending the night in jail, and then I'd broken off from her, as all of our siblings did, effectively giving her the silent treatment so as to emphasize our disapproval. "I love that you're looking out for me here, Murph, but I'm the oldest," she said quietly, gently pulling my fingers off from her shoulders. "If I need help, I'll ask, but it's different this time. Really."_

 _I wanted to say more to her then, but the door to Patsy's opened from behind me and I routinely turned around to see who had come inside. "Oh, my god," I said, my mouth falling open when I saw who was in the doorway._

" _Oh, fuck no," Fiona said, moving out from behind the counter, both guns blazing as she stamped over to the new customer. "Why the fuck are you here?!"_

 _The guy threw up his hands immediately. "I come in peace, I swear!"_

" _Tell that to my little sister's nose, which you broke!" Fiona fired back. "Thank god she and her husband make good money, so a surgeon was able to set it back and fix it properly. But I can't believe you're showing your face here, in my diner..."_

 _The guy looked around. "This your diner?"_

 _Fiona crossed her arms. "Yeah, it's my diner. And we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, and that includes someone who fucks up my sister."_

" _Hey, lady, I was just doing my job—"_

" _It's not 'lady', it's Fiona!" my sister growled at him, and I knew her eyes must've been blazing as I cautiously walked up behind her. "We don't cater to your kind here—"_

" _Fi," I said, my mellow voice cutting across her protective tone as I gently placed a hand upon her shoulder. "Can I have a minute with this guy, please?"_

 _Fiona whipped around then, her dark eyes filled with shock. "You fucking kidding me right now, Murph?" she demanded._

 _I sighed. "Yeah," I replied. "It'll be good for me to move past this."_

 _Fiona sighed back. "Fine, do whatever. But I'm not feeding the son of a bitch," she said, and nodded towards the door, indicating that she wanted us to talk outside._

 _I rolled my eyes, knowing I had to play by her rules. "Come on," I said, no emotion in my voice as I moved for the door, and my eyebrows shot upwards as he opened it for me. "Thanks," I muttered to him, stepping outside into the muggy, summer air. "So, what brings you to my sister's diner, office?" I ask, crossing my arms and regarding him with an expression that I hoped was filled with disdain._

" _It's detective now," he said, trying to ease the tension between us, but I merely raised my eyebrows at him again, indicating that really I had no reason to care what his title on or off the job was. "Sorry. Look, Murphy, I just wanted to apologize for my behavior when I arrested you in June. It was way out of line, but I was working a triple shift—covering for higher-ups in the officer unit—so I was coming off an eighteen-hour shift. I was exhausted, and the sooner I could arrest you, I could go home. Plus, I'd just started a new medication for my anxiety, and so that, combined with my exhaustion, really didn't help..."_

 _I sighed. "Well, I guess I can understand the medication area of things," I reply. "I have depression, anxiety, and paranoia, so I can understand the whole adjusting of meds and starting new ones. I'm sorry you had to go through that, although I could've been more compliant when you arrested me. Forgive me; I was caught off-guard."_

 _He smiled, putting out his hand. "Tommy Matthews," he said._

 _I found myself smiling back at him. "Murphy Gallagher-Blomqvist," I replied, and took his hand to shake it._

. . .

I'd just finished eating breakfast and was washing the dishes, after having put the plates, cups, and silverware into the dishwasher. I heard the feet on the stairs and smiled, looking up at the beautiful September sunshine and turned around to grin at Tommy as he came downstairs, in his detective's suit, and smiled proudly at me. I turned back around and hastily finished washing the last dish before setting it into the drying rack, and washed my hands before I walked over to him in my silk bathrobe.

"Good morning, detective," I said, straightening his tie as Tommy automatically reached down and smacked my ass, and I squealed slightly as he dipped me, kissing me before pulling me back upwards again.

"Good morning, restauranteur," he said.

I smiled up at him, feeling as if I was positively glowing. "Are you coming by for lunch this afternoon?" I asked. "If not, I have a lunch packed for you in the fridge."

"I'll be by around one, if that's okay."

I nodded. "Of course it's okay," I replied. "I got your briefcase all organized and packed for you, and it's by the front door," I went on, and pulled his tie slightly tighter before brushing down his suit with the palms of my hands. "Now, do you have everything you need?"

"Just need my fiancée to walk me to the front door."

I grinned, letting out a laugh then as he gently pulled me along behind him. "Well, I can do that much, Detective Matthews," I said.

Tommy playfully smacked my ass again before he let me go, bending down to pick up his briefcase before he opened the front door. "Of course, I'd like to call you my wife... We've put the feelers out on Nicholas's whereabouts, but we can't find him anywhere..."

I rolled my eyes, pretending not to give a shit about my husband. "Well, you know how people like him are, honey. Deceptive to the core and, given his past thug-life, who's to know how he managed to disappear?"

Tommy nodded, kissing me again. "You're probably right," he said, and turned to look at the house across the street. "You going to see the kids today?"

I shrugged. "Who knows? Ian keeps them on such a tight leash. He still hasn't forgiven me for giving him custody... I mean, he loves them, don't get me wrong, but I sense a resentment from him with the whole history repeating itself thing..."

"Well, see them, don't see them. Just let me know if it's happening or not, because I want my dinner on the table when I get home," he said, and squeezed my ass so hard that it hurt, and my eyes immediately flew to his. "That's not gonna be a problem, is it?"

Immediately, I shook my head at him. "No, Tommy, of course not. I'm making lasagna for you tonight—I know how much you love it."

Tommy grinned. "That's my girl," he said, yanking me to him and kissing me one last time. "I'll see you at the diner at one."

I nodded. "Yeah, Tommy. See you then."

. . .

After my tip-off via the office phone at Patsy's that Tommy was going to be at the diner for lunch, and also due to the notion that Tommy tended to hang around, Ian decided not to bring the kids in until the following day. I was doing some more ordering that Tuesday, and when Sierra alerted me to Ian and my children being there, I immediately told her to have them sent back to my office, unknowing if Tommy was there, or had someone there. I got to my feet then, fixing a smile onto my face as the door opened again, and I gave Ian a look of uncertainty as Iana stepped inside cautiously, and the boys each clung to Ian's legs.

"Hi, guys," I said, doing my best to smile at them. "Aren't you going to come over here and give Mama a hug?"

Iana turned to look at her brothers, who made no move towards me, which was something that truly frightened me. However, Iana walked over to me and merely held up her arms, and I held her for a moment, but she remained stiff in my grasp before walking backwards and out of the embrace I'd given her. "You were wrong, Mama," she said.

I blinked, looking up at Ian, who gave me a stoic expression. Clearly sensing that Ian wouldn't be much help here, I lowered my eyes back down to Iana. "What?" I whispered. "What are you talking about, sweetheart?" I asked her.

Iana looked unsure for a moment before she spoke again. "You chose Tommy over us," she finally said, and my heart hammered in my throat.

"Iana..."

"No," she said, her voice that of a young adult, and not of a mere five-year-old. "You didn't come for my fifth birthday, or for Christmas. Tommy keeps you away from us. He moved into the house, and you moved us out. Why?"

I felt myself coming undone at the bitter truth that I was now forced to face. "Iana, please. There are certain things that you don't understand because..."

" _Don_ ' _t_ call me a kid!" she said, narrowing her eyes at me. "I'm not just a kid. I'm a person, and a pretty fantastic one. My teachers are talking about me moving ahead a couple of grades, based on me being so fantastic. And all I can say, Mama, is that you're going to miss it, because you've made your decision," she went on, before walking out of my office.

Ian moved to leave then, but I stopped him. "Ian, wait, please," I said, as I saw Sierra walking by to retrieve something from the storage area. "Sierra?"

"Yeah, Murphy?" she asked, stepping forward.

"Is Iana...?"

"Just over there," she said, indicating a space close to the kitchen.

"Could you watch her and the boys for a few minutes, please? I need to have a word with Ian, and it's pretty important."

Sierra nodded. "Sure, no problem," she said, smiling at the boys. "Clayton, Fionn, I know we have some of your favorite pies..."

My sons didn't need telling twice. At two, they were wary of strangers, but they enjoyed Sierra's company, and, with the promise of pie, the deal was sealed. Promptly, they let go of Ian's legs and moved to follow her, and I could hear Sierra's words to Iana about a slice of pie as well, and my daughter eagerly thanked her.

"Okay," Ian said, moving to shut the door before he turned around and stared at me. "You want to talk? Talk. Let's talk, Murphy," he said, crossing his arms, and looking at me with those eyes of his, which were filled with betrayal and hurt—not just for himself, but for my children as well, who he had been raising. "Let's talk, about how you constantly claimed how unlike Monica you truly were, for all this time. You constantly said you were nothing like our mother—who you didn't even know—and now, here you are, choosing a fucking guy instead of your kids. I love your kids, Murphy, don't get me wrong, but they're your kids—your kids—and you dumped them on me like trash to take up with your new wannabe trophy husband..."

I shook my head at him. "Ian, please..."

"No, Murphy, it's not that easy, and you know it," he said, plowing on. "You hardly ever come over to the house to see me, Debs says you avoid her whenever she comes in here solo or even with Franny, and Lip says you've been skipping out on meetings. You've missed school things with Liam, plus Iana and the boys, and you haven't been returning Fiona's calls. Even Carl's contacted me from wherever he's stationed overseas. Long story short, Murphy, our whole entire family is worried sick about you, and you don't even seem to give a shit."

I bit my lip, wanting to tell him everything, but I couldn't. "Ian, don't do this. I am literally begging you not to do this..."

"Not to do what?!" Ian demanded, obviously exasperated with me. "Not to do what, Murphy? I literally don't understand you anymore. I remember, after that son of a bitch Nicholas ran off and then you took off with Iana to god knows where..."

"I..." I sighed, knowing that Iana must've kept her mouth shut about the trip, but, at least, I hoped if I told Ian, at long last, where I'd gone, then perhaps the road to forgiveness could at least be started... "We went to Mexico, okay?"

Ian looked as if someone had knifed him to the heart. "Mexico?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Mexico."

"For fuck's sake, Murphy!" Ian shouted then, crossing over to me and grabbing me by the shoulders, and I immediately cried out, but he kept right on talking. "You went to fucking Mexico fifteen months ago and you didn't even bother to tell me?!"

I sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, Ian. But I didn't know who I could tell. I swore Iana to secrecy, just for protection purposes, really, but..."

"Did you see him?" Ian asked, cutting across me. "Mickey. Did you see him?"

I grimaced then from the pain of his gripping me. "Yeah, of course we saw him. It was time for him to meet Iana."

Ian gave a stiff nod. "How'd he take it?"

"After the understandable initial shock at the entirety of the situation, Mickey took it remarkably well, to tell you the truth," I replied.

"He say anything about me?"

"You know he always does."

"You tell him anything?"

"You know I always do."

Ian stiffened then, obviously unsure of how to continue the conversation, but wanting more than anything to know the end of the story. "What'd you tell him?"

"That you love him," I reply, and his eyes snap to mine. "He still loves you, too, Ian. And he told me that once he gets his shit together down there, that he's going to come back. He's going to risk going to fucking jail, Ian, just because he doesn't want to be without you anymore. That's straight up love, right there..."

Ian looked shocked. "He's coming back? For me?"

I nodded. "He'll always come back for you," I tell him. "He's prepared to fight it—the conviction, the legal system, everything—just to get you back."

"Jesus," Ian whispered, dragging a hand through his hair. "If he can do all that for me, then why the fuck can't you do something like that for your kids?"

I shake my head at him. "Not this again, please."

"Who are you trying to fool, Murphy?" Ian demanded.

I looked away from him. "Ian, please..."

"No, really, I want to know," Ian went on, dragging me to face him again, and I winced at the brutality of the physical contact. "Are you pretending that you don't give a damn about your own kids for some reason, Murphy? In which case, why?"

I shook my head at him, yanking myself away from him. "Don't," I tell him, my voice firm. "I want you to drop all this bullshit. Keep my fucking kids, Ian—keep them. They'd be happier with you anyway."

Ian stared at me for a moment, searching my face, almost as if he was trying to figure out something that I couldn't verbalize. "Murphy..." He said quietly, and I wanted more than anything to talk to him, to tell him, but... "...where the fuck are you?"

"Right here," I said, my voice hardening deliberately. "But I'm very busy and important, and you need to get the fuck out of my office."

My words—which I'd so often used as a running joke between the two of us—which were now said in such a cold tone that Ian looked shell-shocked, caused my twin to stumble backwards in a moment of devastation. "Well, I know that you'll come and talk to me when and if you want to, Murphy," he said, stepping out of my office and leaving the door open behind him.

I stood there for a moment before I followed him, peeking out into the restaurant, and watched as Ian collected my children. The boys clung to his legs again, and Iana reached up to take his hand as the four of them walked out together. Sighing, I dashed the tears out of my eyes as I walked back past the kitchen, and walked into the ladies' room, shutting the door behind me. I stood in front of the mirror for a moment, before I took off the sweatshirt I was wearing, the tank top beneath it revealing the black, blue, and purple marks dotting every surface of my arms. My legs were the exact same way, as were my breasts and stomach, and my ass, and the fact that Ian had grabbed my shoulders just now hadn't helped matters.

I rolled my eyes, tightening my ponytail before I pulled my sweatshirt on again and left the ladies' room. I called Sierra out from the front again, nearly trembling at the prospect of what I was about to ask her. So much so that I hesitated for nearly a full minute, leaving my employee to stand awkwardly before me.

"Listen, I need to go for a run," I said, my voice shaking. "You mind holding down the fort for an hour? I'll have my phone on me if anything comes up..."

Sierra nodded. "Yeah, sure, Murphy. No problem."

I managed to smile at her. "Thanks," I replied.

I walked out the back door of the restaurant, remembering my numerous smoke breaks out there, as well as finding Lip back there once, when I had thought that Josh had taken Iana. I ignored the lump that rose in my throat then, kicking up my feet on the hard surface of the concrete alley beneath them, just running. I put many blocks between myself and the diner, ignoring the tears which fell from my eyes. I didn't know why I had allowed myself to get into this situation—to be cut off from my children—but I also knew that, at the end of the day, it needed to be so, to get what I really wanted above all things.

After several blocks, I bent over, breathing heavily, my lungs threatening to explode as I bent over halfway, gripping onto my knees. When my vision cleared and I slowly raised my eyes upwards then, my breath hitched in my throat when I saw where I was. Looking to the left, I saw that I was standing directly next to Nicholas's condo, which he still hadn't gotten rid of, and I still had the key. As I turned to the right, I remembered Josh coming down the street at top speed, and Nicholas throwing me out of the way at full force to save my life. I turned back to the condo again, digging in my pocket for the set of keys I kept—to the houses, my car, various spaces around the restaurant, and Nicholas's condo—as I passed through the gate and up the small set of stairs, sticking the key into the lock.

I caught my breath then as I crossed the threshold, closing the door behind me, and sensing Nicholas everywhere I looked. He'd left a few things here, of course—when we fought, and he hadn't want to return to his childhood home, he would sometimes spend the night here. As I stepped deeper inside, I saw the kitchen first off the hallway, and stood in the doorway, and remembered bandaging up his swollen eye, and our simultaneous lovemaking session, when the boys were conceived. Turning around, I then moved to the doorway of the living room, and recalled returning here from Los Angeles, after realizing I was pregnant, when I broke up with Nicholas, after informing him that I believed he had had a child with Jasmine.

I turned and looked down the hallway, where the staircase was, and found myself drawn to it as I carefully stepped closer to it. Climbing the stairs carefully, I gripped onto the bannister, biting down hard on my lower lip, knowing that if I could face this, I could face anything. I finally reached the top of the staircase, and walked down the upper hallway towards the master bedroom, the door partially open. As I stepped forward, I pushed it open fully, and stood there upon the threshold for several minutes, gazing at the bed. Stepping forward, I put my hand out and touched the pillow where Nicholas had, likely millions of times, laid his head down to sleep, and, slowly, I picked it up, bringing it to my face as tears began to fall, and inhaled slightly, shuddering with sobs.

As I moved to return it to its place, I was caught off-guard by the folded-up piece of paper which had been hidden beneath it. Reaching out and setting the pillow aside, I painstakingly unfolded it and gazed at the handwriting. I let out a small gasp then, when I realized that it was Nicholas's handwriting, and the familiarity of the words jarred through me. They were from an entirely different lifetime, when things were far-less complicated, and I was actually happy...

 _Murphy, since the day we met, you've successfully managed to drive me crazy in a far more pleasant manner than anyone else in my life has managed to do. In my life, I never assimilated to the traditional values that are taught to you as soon as you can fully understand them, but that all changed when I met you, and us because a possibility. Since then, you've made me a better and a happier man. I promise that I will never stop loving you, and always come to you for advise if I need it. I promise that I will never stop putting you and the kids before everything, and always let you know if we need to talk about something important when it comes to them. And, most of all, I promise to never leave you, because marriage is for life, and I'm devoting my life to you and our beautiful children, because that's all I'll ever want. I pledge this day to be your loving, dutiful, respectful, compassionate, stubborn, loyal, honest, and crazy husband, because I know you will vow to be the same things as my wife. I love you, Murphy Margaret Gallagher, and that's something that'll never change._

I felt a shallow gasp escape from my lips then, as tears flooded my vision as I reached out to trace the words that Nicholas had written to me. And now, as soon as Tommy decreed it, and as soon as the divorce papers were signed, I would be giving myself in marriage to another man. I couldn't understand the notion of missing Nicholas so much, when I knew in my heart that I had never deserved a man like him, because I was unworthy of everything positive that came my way, and I knew I would be bound to Tommy for life...

I looked down at the paper again then, gripping it in my shaking hands. "I love you," I whispered softly to it, bringing it to my lips and kissing it. "I'll always love you. Please forgive me for saying goodbye, but it's for the best...please understand..." I said quietly, my voice finally breaking as I got to my feet and left the bedroom, dashed down the staircase, and ran out the front door, locking it behind me, and then ran as fast as I could back to Patsy's.


	2. Wrong Time, Wrong Place

Chapter Two: Wrong Time, Wrong Place

"Murphy?"

Immediately, I feel on edge when I feel the familiarity of the voice calling my name, and I find myself compelled to snap out of my daze. Looking up from my desk in my office at Patsy's, I see Sierra in the doorway, looking shocked as I bolt out of my seat and stand at attention like a solider, sweat dripping down my back. As I force my limbs not to start shaking as I mentally cross my fingers, I force a grin onto my face.

"Hey, Sierra," I say, tucking a stray bit of hair behind my ear. "What's up?" I ask, trying to appear nonchalant and failing miserably.

Sierra looks shocked at my demeanor, but knows better than to ask her boss if there's anything wrong with me. "Uh... Your sister is here to see you," she says.

I blinked, doing quick process of elimination, and deciding that Debbie was the safer bet at this point, considering Fiona's decision to run off to New York. "Great," I say, pulling out my ponytail and readjusting it for what must've been the tenth time that day. "She can come on back, Sierra. It's cool."

Sierra nodded, moving back into the hallway. "Didn't know you had three sisters, Murphy," she called over her shoulder.

"What? Three sisters?" I asked, stepping out into the hallway, and my jaw dropping when I saw the platinum-blonde dye job and slightly emaciated body of my older half-sister. "What the fuck are you doing here, you bitch?!" I demanded through my teeth.

Sammi crossed her arms. "Cut a deal—snitched on my cellmate, got out early," she replied, and moved past me, knocking herself into my shoulder, on purpose. "Not that it's any of _your_ business," she went on rudely, letting herself into my office and plopping down onto the chair as if she owned the place. "I'll wait for my sister in here."

I followed her in, watching as she made herself at home, and the entire arrangement quickly set my teeth on edge. "Fiona's in New York," I said, crossing my arms as my hackles continued to rise as I watched her perusing my knickknacks on my desk. "She left me the diner. Wanted to keep it in the family..."

Sammi's eyes immediately flashed to mine. "Huh. Thought it was weird that you looked so familiar, even though I don't know you..."

I gave her a bitter smile. "Murphy Gallagher," I replied, kicking my door shut behind me, and leaning up against it. "So, you're the one who got my twin brother a felony record and fucked up everything for him."

Sammi turned white then as she looked me up and down. "Daddy had another kid?!" came her whisper, nearly trembling at my desk.

I continued that smile at her, feeling as if I was the embodiment of a serpent. "Yeah, Frank had another kid, Sammi. I'm Ian's twin sister, which makes me your sister, too."

Sammi looked shocked at the declaration, but she remained sitting at my desk. "Shit. I didn't know there was another one of you out there..."

"Believe me, there is," I said, slipping my phone out of my pocket and creating a massive text to send to everyone, plus Kev and V. I noted Sammi trying to make a run for it, but I merely reached out my free hand and shoved her back into her chair. "You'd better sit your ass down if you know what's good for you, bitch," I said smartly, pocketing my phone again and grinning at her. "We're going to have quite a bit of fun, you and I."

"I don't munch anyone, especially my sister!" Sammi squawked.

I rolled my eyes. "Please, I wouldn't munch you even if you paid me," I said, scoffing in disgust at her implication. "Besides, you're not my type."

"No?" Sammi asked. "Because I don't have a cock?"

"No, because you're a fucking cunt," I replied without missing a beat. "I like women and men but I don't munch family members, first of all, or fucking bitches, second of all."

Sammi looked uncomfortable. "Okay. Fine."

I checked my phone a few moments later, remembering how Fiona always used to say that family was everything. Despite the hell I'd put them all through, everyone but Liam was coming to have my back and to fuck up Sammi. Ian had the biggest claim to the fucking up, considering that he was the one who suffered the most. Of course, if Mickey were on my speed dial, I know he'd want to take a few shots as well...

"We're going to be having a little company soon," I said, my tone filled with glee as I returned my phone back into my pocket.

"You call up reinforcements?" Sammi asked.

I nodded. "You better believe I did."

"Why?" she asked. "Afraid you can't take me herself?"

That set my blood to boiling then as I stomped over to her, lifting her up by her collar and slamming her up against the wall. "I really wouldn't want to be the one fucking with me right now," I growled at her through my teeth. "I could take you, easily, but we Gallagher's like to fight Gallagher style, which means if my siblings will have my back, I will willingly call them up to help take care of shit. Believe me, Sammi, you're nothing on a scale of one to ten. You fucked with the wrong family, and I don't give a fuck if you have one-thirty-second of my DNA, if my family had turned me down, I would willingly fuck you up on my own. You sold my twin brother—my fucking twin brother—up the river, and I will gladly take part in fucking you up, because that's what you deserve." I took the liberty of slamming her up against the wall once more, so much so that she easily crumpled up in a heap at my feet.

The knock on the door behind me a moment later hardly startled me, and as I crossed the room to open it, I was filled with relief when Ian, Lip, Debbie, Kev, and V stepped into the room and took a good, hard look at Sammi. Sammi, meanwhile, had come to, and was looking imploringly up at them all, and I found that my smile matched all of theirs. Ian turned and looked at me then, and my eyes snapped to his.

"I heard all that," he said. "You know... What you said just now..."

I shrugged. "Despite the fact that I can't tell you every single bit of shit that goes on in my life, I will always, _always_ , have your back."

A look crossed Ian's face then, and it looked as if he would ask more, but Lip and Kev suddenly shoved past him and made a grab for Sammi. Ian quickly followed, with Debbie on his heels, and I smiled, crossing my arms as I lean up against a door, V at my side, like we are a pair of jailers ready to fuck with Sammi if she attempts to break free. As I stand there, feeling smug and very proud of myself, V reaches out then and touches my arm, and I immediately stiffen at the physical contact bestowed upon me.

"Jeez, Murph, it's just me," V says, and I immediately turn to look at her, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Yeah," I said, clearing my throat and nodding. "Yeah, I know it's you. I mean, why wouldn't it be you?" I asked her, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. "Of course it's you..."

V looks confused at my demeanor. "You okay?"

I shrugged, turning to look back at Sammi as my family took turns yelling and beating on her in some way, feeling relieved that, for once, it wasn't my turn. "Yeah," I said, pushing the thought from my mind as I turned to look at V. "Why wouldn't I be?"

V blinked, looking unsure. "Because you're not...yourself," she replied, and I felt the sweat dripping down my back once again. "I don't get it. You're acting the same way that Fiona did when there was something wrong..."

"You ruined everything for me, Sammi!" Ian hollered down at her, and kicked her in the ribs, and I felt satisfied at that.

"Nothing's wrong, V," I said firmly.

"Yeah, but Murph, if there is—"

"There _isn_ ' _t_ ," I told her, my voice even firmer than before as I stepped towards the fray, leaning down into it and making a grab for Sammi. "I'm going to fucking make you piss blood you fucking cunt!" I growled through my teeth, throwing her down onto the ground again and slamming my fists repeatedly into her.

"Okay, guys, I think she's had enough," Kev said a few minutes later, and I stood there, putting an arm around Ian, looking up at him.

"Feeling good?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "Better, I guess..."

I sighed. "Kev, you and Lip can roll her up in that carpet," I said quietly, nodding to the one stashed between the file cabinet and the safe. "Put her in the back of your truck, will you, and dump her somewhere?"

"No problem," Kev said, bending down and doing the work.

"She still breathing?" Debbie asked.

"I'll check," Lip said, putting his hand just over her mouth. "Yeah, she'll make it. And judging by her head wounds, she'll have some memory loss... Hopefully we can trust Sierra not to rat on us for her just showing up..."

I nodded. "I'll think of something," I said, leaning down on Ian's shoulder. "But you guys probably should get the hell outta here," I went on, wanting nothing more than for all of them to stay, but knowing I'd be in as much shit as it was, having them just show up out of the blue, without clearing it with Tommy first. "Just go out the back. V, pull the truck back into the alley—nobody'll see what you're doing back there."

"On it," V replied as Kev tossed over his set of keys. "Let's get outta here. Debs, you come out to the front with me. Lip and Kev, get your asses into the alley," she ordered, putting her arm around Debbie's shoulders and leading her out, Kev and Lip following, Sammi's body wrapped in the carpet between them.

"You gonna tell me?" Ian asked in the silence that followed.

I blinked, turning to look up at him. "What?"

"Come on, Murph. I haven't seen you in two weeks, and it's getting harder and harder on the kids, especially the boys."

I sighed. "What's wrong with the boys?"

"They called me 'Daddy' the other day..."

"Fuck," I whispered. "That's not good..."

"Well, you _did_ give me custody, all against my better judgement, of course," he said, and slowly removed his arm from around my shoulders. "Now, are you gonna tell me why you just handed over your kids to me, or not?"

I shook my head. "I'm not."

"Murphy..."

"Look, don't do this again," I begged, my voice desperate as I turned away from him. "I can't have you knowing every little thing about my life, Ian. I can't."

"I used to know every little thing about your life, Murph," he replied, placing his hand on my shoulder, and the gentleness of his touch made my eyes fill with tears. "Why did you suddenly stop telling me when Tommy came into the picture?"

I shrugged, his hand falling off my shoulder. "Some things are better left unsaid, Ian. Some things you just don't need to know about..."

"The fuck I don't," Ian replied, reaching out and grabbing me by the shoulders and turning me around, so much so that I gasped at the pain that shot through them. "Why the fuck aren't you giving me straight answers, Murph? Please, I need to know. What the fuck does Tommy have on you, dammit?!"

"Nothing!" I cried out then, my voice raw. "He doesn't have shit on me, Ian! He and I are getting married and shit couldn't be better! Can you just drop it now?!"

"No," Ian replied. "No, we can't just drop it now, Murphy. Because of your three kids, that I'm having to raise. You said you weren't like Monica..."

"I'm not like Monica!" I cried out, my voice shaking. "I'm not like Monica, Ian! I'm not like her, I know I can't be like her..."

"You _are_ like her, Murph," Ian said, stepping backwards then, almost as if I was a lost cause. "I refuse to be associated with you if you don't see reason..."

"Ian!" Lip shouted then, bolting through the kitchen and into the hallway, just behind him. "We got her in the truck. Let's go." Lip turned then, his silvery eyes filled with worry as they looked at me. "You okay?"

I shrugged. "Fine."

"Would you stop?!" Ian demanded. "You are not fine!"

"Shut the fuck up, Ian!" I yelled. "You don't know shit about me!"

"I know plenty," Ian fired back. "And I know you well enough to know when you're fucking lying through your teeth—"

I stepped forward then, clocking Ian on the cheek, and glaring at him. "You don't know a fucking thing," I hissed then, my hand shaking from the impact.

"Murphy—" Lip began, his expression one of shock.

"Let's go. She's just a fucking liar, Lip," Ian said, shaking his head at me then as he put and arm around Lip's shoulders and walked out of there with him.

. . .

"Oh, I just walked into a door."

I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, in nothing but a tank top and shorts, having just heard Tommy leaving the house and drive off down the street. I gripped ahold of the counter then, wrapping my fingers around its edges, hoping that my words sounded somewhat convincing as I spoke them. I bit my lower lip, staring at my reflection, the shiner I was sporting around my right eye already beginning to darken and swell slightly.

"Oh, this?" I asked my reflection, forcing a laugh out. "Got this from walking into a door. I'm just so goddamned clumsy, aren't I?"

I felt a tremor flow through my body then, knowing that I had to appear as convincing in this lie as humanly possible. I felt raw, just standing there lying to myself, knowing full well that I would have to do so to any of my employees who attempted to interrogate me about in in the next hour. Of course, a curious customer or two could ask about it, and I allowed the lie to roll over my tongue once again.

"Just walked into a door," I whispered quietly, attempting to keep my voice from squeaking. "It was dark—couldn't see straight. Clumsy me..."

I pulled my fingers inward then, allowing my nails to bite at the palms of my hands, constantly raw with various callouses from going over the books, or the defensive wounds I'd sustained over the last sixteen months. The nicks I could easily explain away, living in the ghetto like this—caught on our gate, DIY projects around the house, things like that. I swallowed then, and turned towards the shower, knowing that, perhaps, if I smelled halfway decent and made myself look presentable, then maybe, just maybe, I could get away with looking like this.

Once I had allowed the hot water to co-mingle with my skin, I felt myself shuddering once again at the notion of Tommy's words the previous evening, and his rough, uncaring hands on me. It had never been that bad, and my gut told me that there would only be worse yet to come. But it was a vicious cycle, I knew that—the fact that I was preconditioned to be treated like this from such a young age made me this way, and I felt the toxicity like a familiar, bitter taste in my mouth as I shut off the shower.

I stepped back into the master bedroom, wrapped in a towel, and dug in my drawers to pull out a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a sweater, and a pair of socks. Once I dressed—hastily, as I knew I could not allow myself to be late to work—I stepped into a pair of sneakers and headed downstairs, the silence deafening in the house. I slipped my cell phone into the pocket of my jeans and made a grab for my jacket, slipping it on around my shoulders before I bent to pick up my purse, which already held everything I needed, including my wallet and keys. I stepped out of the house, shutting and locking the door behind me, a lump rising in my throat as I caught a glimpse of the house across the way, tearing my eyes from it as I pulled my jacket closer around my throat and made my way towards my car.

I must've looked at my face a good six or seven times as I drove to Patsy's, making sure to put some face powder on just after parking outside and letting myself out. Locking up my vehicle and stepping inside the diner, I smiled and waved to the regular customers as I slipped off my jacket and made my way back to my office, hoping that I would not be subjected to any form of interrogation that morning. I stepped into the back, going down the thin hallway and past the kitchen before letting myself into my office and shutting my door behind me, leaning up against it, feeling the tremors coming off me all over again as I struggled to keep it together.

What I thought was my body reacting to the very real notion that I was in a very troubled relationship, I suddenly realized that my phone was vibrating from its place in my pocket. I was immediately frightened, believing that Tommy was calling to check up on me, wanting to know if I'd taken off work and stayed home to be fucking lazy. Shaking my head, I turned to hang up my jacket and dug my phone out of my pocket, my heart hammering in my chest when I saw Fiona's number popping up upon the screen.

I bit my lip, knowing that I'd been ducking phone calls and any form of interactions with all of my siblings for the past three or so weeks, since we'd given Sammi what had been coming to her all along. Shaking my head, I swiped the green phone icon, knowing that I needed to talk to someone, anyone, even if it just involved hearing a familiar voice for a few minutes. Maybe my older sister had some news of her own, and maybe, just this once, she wouldn't ask me about my personal life...

"Hey, Fi," I said, trying and failing not to sound dejected as I answered her call.

"Why the fuck are you avoiding us?" she asked me, her voice hinging somewhere between desperation and devastation.

I sighed, dragging my free hand through my hair. "Fucking complicated, Fi..."

"I don't see how it could be too fucking complicated, Murph," Fiona fired back, immediately on the older sister she-wolf track. "You need to tell me what the fuck is going on with you, Murph, and you need to tell me right now."

"Don't Fi," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Don't..."

Fiona sighed. "We're worried about you, Murphy," she said then, her voice becoming calmer, almost as if she knew that yelling at me wouldn't work.

I felt myself shuddering all over again, wanting so badly to come clean, to tell someone, anyone, about what had been going on, but everything that Tommy had been saying ever since he'd caught me in his web came flowing back, and I was afraid... "Nothing needs to be worried about when it comes to me," I said, hating that I could manipulate my voice into an assuring tone as I leaned my forehead into the palm of my hand, resting it there as tears fell from my eyes. "I promise, Fi—nothing is happening."

"Murph..."

Slowly, I lifted my head. "Yeah?"

"You remember how I knew Ian was gay?"

I nodded, despite the notion that she couldn't see me. "Of course."

"And you remember how I knew you were our sister?"

I sighed. "I couldn't ever forget that, Fi."

"Well, I also know when a Gallagher is talking bullshit," she said quietly.

I lowered my eyes. "Yeah? How do you figure?"

"Got a call from Ian a few weeks back, and I've been trying to call you ever since," she replied, and I knew full well that she knew something. "This is your first time getting back to me, so obviously, you don't know what I know."

I leaned my head back then, so that it was resting against the door to my office. "And what do you know, Fi?"

"I know that you beat the shit out of Sammi, and I couldn't be prouder of you," she replied, and I smiled a little then. "But, I also know that, for some reason, the kids are now living with Ian. I mean, call me crazy, but could you explain to me why that is?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Guess I wasn't cut out to be a mother, I guess."

"Bullshit."

I raised my eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"I'm calling bullshit, Murphy! Seriously, I mean, what the fuck is the matter with you, that you would just hand off your kids to our brother?!"

I shake my head then, my hand shaking as I struggled to keep my tone civil. "You know what, Fiona? There's just some shit in life that you won't be able to ever understand."

"The fuck does that mean, Murphy?" Fiona demanded. "You love your kids! You chose them over Nicholas when he fucking ran off like a pussy! And now, some fucker who fucking broke your nose when he arrested you on phony charges waltzes in after your husband leaves and moves himself in, shoves your kids out, pops the question, and that's that?"

I immediately shot to my feet then, knowing full well that Fiona knew it all—and likely had figured it all out—but I couldn't tell. "Don't fucking talk about my life like you know every little detail about it!" I screamed into the phone then, my voice trembling then as I forced the anger I felt for Tommy out of my lungs, directing it entirely at Fiona. "You fucking left, and then my husband fucking left, so what was I supposed to do?!"

"Not leave your fucking kids, Murphy! How about that?!"

I scoffed into the phone then, tired of fighting. "Fuck you, Fiona," I said. "I'm sick and tired of this bullshit. Don't fucking call me again," I said, pressing the hang up button, and felt immediate relief when she didn't call again.

. . .

The green, mermaid-cut dress was certainly not my style, but since Tommy had picked it out for me to wear that night, I was fully prepared to listen, not wanting a repeat of what had happened a week and a half before. I did my best to meet his eyes in the mirror and smile at him as he clasped my pearl necklace around my throat, which I carefully straightened out as he handed over my silk wrap. I retrieved my clutch, containing my ID and a spare lipstick, and moved to follow him downstairs and out of the house.

"A charity gala?" I asked him. "Which charity?"

"Red Cross," Tommy replied, leading me down the porch stairs and towards his car. "Of course, the awards ceremony is tonight, too, which is equally important."

I nodded. "Yeah, of course. You're being honored."

Tommy smiled, opening my door for me and waiting until I was inside the passenger seat and comfortable before he shut the door. Circling the car like a vulture, he came and got into the driver's seat and put the key into the ignition. "Your fiancé's got himself a promotion, and he will be honored tonight in front of other South Side cops."

I forced another smile to my lips. "Well, I've seen you in action enough to know how good at your job you are," I said, knowing I had to stroke his ego. "I know that if anyone's deserving for the promotion, it's you."

Tommy smiles, leaning in to kiss my cheek as we pull out of the driveway, and I force myself to keep smiling as we drive off down the street. He makes small talk with me as we drive, finally arriving at the event in question, where he hands his set of keys to the provided valet service, and we are given a number for our car. As we step inside, I am permitted to leave my wrap in the coat check room, and as we step inside together, I do my best not to squeak as Tommy takes my arm and shows me off to his various colleagues.

"There's my chief," Tommy says, letting go of my arm. "I'd better go and say hello. Are you fine on your own for a moment?"

I nodded, feeling relieved that I'm not going to be dragged over and made to be quiet and only speak when spoken to. "Yeah, of course," I said, smiling at him. "It's your night. Go and schmooze and have fun."

Tommy grinned, leaning in and kissing me on the cheek again. "Be back soon—I promise," he assured me, crossing the room and greeting all the other cops who had gathered around the chief to likely kiss his ass.

"You know, I never liked these events myself," said a familiar voice from beside me just a moment later, which caused me to turn around and face it. "Just a bunch of police officers and other ranking officials getting too drunk and too polite. Of course, their politeness is caused directly by their drunkenness, which means it's totally not sincere, but even if their sober, they're just looking for a promotion anyway..."

"Mason?" I whispered, shocked at seeing someone from my past, someone who was linked very intimately with Nicholas. "Holy fuck..."

Mason smiled at me. "Good to see you, Murphy."

I smiled then, unknowing how to react to this unexpected turn of events. "So... How are you, then, Mason? How's your wife?"

"Fine. Kids are fine, too," he tells me, and I find I cannot help but smile, for when I'd last seen Mason, I'd been pregnant with the boys, and although Nicholas and I had not formally been together at the time, he was safe, and so was I... "How about your kids?"

"Fine," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "My brother tells me they're fine."

Mason raises his eyebrows. "Your brother?"

"Ian," I replied. "They... My kids live with Ian."

Mason looked perturbed by that fact as his eyes drifted to the chief, still surrounded by cops looking for a favor, but looked visibly surprised when Tommy appeared to be staring daggers at him from across the room. "You here with Matthews?"

I blinked, hoping I wouldn't break out in a cold sweat. "Yeah. Why?"

Mason swallowed then, visibly outraged for his friend. "Didn't think you would ever move on from Nicholas. It was all such a shock, when he left like that, but I never assumed..." He watched then as I tucked a stray hair behind my ear, and managed to catch a glimpse of my engagement ring. "Tommy give that to you?"

I nodded. "Yeah. We're engaged."

"Didn't realize the divorce was final."

I sighed. "I've got the paperwork, but, of course, it's difficult to get everything worked out when you don't know where your husband is."

Mason sighed, looking around then, almost as if he had been holding onto a secret for a long period of time, and was now wondering if now was the right moment to talk about it. "I know where Nicholas is."

I felt my mouth grow dry then, and immediately felt unsteady on my feet as I nearly shook with a combination of apprehension and excitement. I hadn't heard from Nicholas since the day he'd left me at my insistence, and I'd always wondered if he'd been all right... "Where is he?" I asked him quietly, my voice begging.

Mason shook his head. "That's classified."

I sighed. "Fuck," I whispered. "Knew it wouldn't be that easy."

Mason looked around again, spotting Tommy still staring at us. "I'm going to say something now, and you're going to laugh, got it?" he asked.

I blinked. "Uh, yeah, sure," I said, and then burst into laughter.

"I can't tell you where Nicholas is, but I will arrange for something so that you two can be in the same room, so that he can sign the divorce papers."

I laughed aloud again. "Thank you," I managed to get out.

"I'll call you at Patsy's—you still own it, right?"

I did my best to stifle my laughter then. "Yeah, I still own it."

"Great. I'll call you as soon as I've set everything up. Got it."

"Got it," I replied.

Mason smiled at me then, before reaching out and placing a hand upon my shoulder. "Just... Be careful, Murphy—with Tommy. I hope you know what you're doing."

I nodded at him. "I know what I'm doing," I replied, immediately stepping away from him as soon as Tommy excused himself from the chief's side, and came to stand beside me. "Hello, darling," I said, kissing him on the cheek. "Everything all right?"

"It's time to take our seats now," he told me firmly, putting his arm around my bare shoulders and leaving me away from Mason, glaring at him from over his shoulder as we made our way towards the tables, looking for our assigned one.

I knew that Tommy was angry, but doing his best to keep professional as he accepted his promotion to sergeant that evening. I kept a smile glued to my face then, all throughout the night, but his grip gradually tightened on my knee from underneath the table, reminding me of what was to come later on that evening. When the time came to leave, I fetched my wrap and Tommy got the car back, this time forcing me to get myself into the car. He drove home just at the speed limit, and I swallowed as we did so, forcing myself not to tremble as we pulled up outside and as we stepped out of the car, through the gate, and up the stairs.

"Just explain to me what the fuck you think you were doing tonight, Murphy," Tommy said, deathly calm as he shut and locked the front door behind us.

I did my best not to completely come undone, knowing that a neutral approach was probably for the best right now. "What do you mean?"

" _Speaking_ to Mason Crowe, goddammit!" Tommy said, whipping around then and glaring at me, which quickly sent shivers down my spine. "You're _mine_ , Murphy, all mine!" he snarled through his teeth then, grabbing ahold of my shoulders, squeezing them, hard, so hard that I knew their bones could snap easily in his grip.

I nodded vigorously then. "I know, Tommy. I know..."

"Say it," Tommy said, dragging me towards him, and his breath reeked of cheap scotch. "Tell me you're mine."

"Tommy, I really don't—"

Immediately, Tommy backhanded me across the face, but before I could crumple to the floor, he gripped me in his hands once again, so much so that my neck snapped backwards for half a moment, and I saw stars. "You _do not_ talk back to me, Murphy!"

I lowered my eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Now, tell me what Mason said to you tonight!"

I shuddered, knowing I couldn't tell him the truth—Tommy could easily find out the information on Nicholas's whereabouts, hunt him down, and kill him, and make it look like an accident. I'd witnessed first-hand what he was capable of, and I could not, under any circumstances, allow him to go after Nicholas, my children, or my siblings...

"Nothing!" I said quickly, too quickly. "Just about your promotion, and the fact that you're a good cop—"

"You're a fucking liar, Murphy!" Tommy screamed then, shoving me out of his arms for a moment before grabbing me by the hair and slamming my face into the wall. "Tell me the fucking truth, Murphy, or so help me, I'll knock all your teeth out!"

"Please," I whispered, reaching backwards then, feeling sick that it had come to this. "Please, don't do this, baby," I said, trying to find him within his trousers. "You don't have to do this. I just want you to be happy—let me make you happy, Tommy..."

Tommy smacked my hands back then, before he sucker-punched me in the back, and my knees finally gave way, and I crumpled to the ground. "Lie there, Murphy, like the fucking dog you are," he growled, spitting on me then before kicking me out of his way, as he made his way to the staircase and upstairs to bed.

. . .

It took all I had for the rest of the week to drag myself out of bed and get to work on time, knowing how suspicious it would be if I started taking time off work every time Tommy would get out of hand. I did my best to grin and bear it, getting all the way to Friday without incident, but dreading the weekend ahead. I'd arranged to cook Tommy's favorite meals for the entirety of it all, and got three cases of Old Style to curb him of his desires to be depraved.

A knock on my door on Friday afternoon startled me, and I turned towards the sound. "Come on in," I said, trying to make my voice sound carefree. When the door opened, I immediately got to my feet and tried my best to remain steady. "Holy shit, Debs," I said, motioning for her to come inside and watched as she shut the door behind her. "You okay?"

Debbie crossed her arms. "I should be asking you the same question."

I shook my head at her. "Don't fucking do this, Debs. Not you, too. I've already had Ian and Lip chase me down, plus Fiona's been calling me nonstop—"

"And we probably should be!" Debbie said, her voice desperate for answers. "Murph, come the fuck on! What do you take us for? Idiots?"

I shook my head. "You're not an idiot, Debs. I know that."

"Fine, then. Assholes?"

I rolled my eyes. "Jesus Christ. No, you're not assholes."

"Then why won't you talk to us, or come over, or at least allow your kids to live with you?!" she demanded then, crossing over to me and taking me by the shoulders, so much so that I violently yanked myself away from her.

"Fuck, Debs! Don't fucking do that!"

Debbie looked shocked at my actions then, and promptly stepped forward again. "What? You mean this?" she asked, grabbing ahold of me again.

"Dammit! Get the fuck off me!" I yelled, shoving her hands off me.

Debbie's dark eyes filled with pain then as she reached for me a third time and, faster than lightning, yanked off my sweater and gazed at me then, for beneath the sweater, I wore a tank top and a bra beneath, which didn't leave much to the imagination, as my skin was covered with black and purple bruises, and the skin itself hung off my bones, practically. "How much do you even weigh now, Murphy?"

"A hundred pounds, on a good day," I whispered.

Debbie nodded. "And today?"

I bit my lip. "Ninety, maybe eighty-nine," I said.

Debbie scrutinized me then. "You haven't been sleeping, and you're obviously not eating, or not being allowed to eat..."

I shook my head. "That's not what's going on, Debs."

"Then tell me what's going on Murph!" Debbie yelled then, and I gasped aloud at her tone of voice. "I'm not a fucking kid! Tell me! I'm your fucking sister!"

I rolled my eyes, taking my sweater back from her. "You wouldn't even begin to understand what's going on, Debs. Any of this."

"Bullshit," Debbie replied, and I caught her eye. "I know when something's up. I'm not a fucking retard."

I shook my head. "Don't say that word, Debs."

"Then fucking talk to me, Murph! We're fucking worried!"

"Don't be!" I yelled. "Don't worry about me!"

"Is Tommy beating you?!" she demanded then, and I immediately moved to shake my head, but found that I couldn't move. "Is he the one who did all this?"

I shook my head at her. "You wouldn't understand..."

"Fuck this, Murphy. Is he beating you or not?!"

"He loves me!" I yelled back, my voice becoming raw. "He loves me, and we're getting married, and Nicholas is never fucking coming back, because he is a worthless sack of shit, and Tommy is the only person out there who really gives a shit—"

Debbie looked me over then, appalled. "What the fuck?"

I scoffed, pulling my sweater over my head. "What?" I demanded of her, wrapping my hands around my arms and glaring at her. "What is it now?"

"That fucker fucking brainwashed you," she whispered, backing away from me then. "I know you're still in there, Murph, somewhere, but you need to understand that this is not okay, and that you need to go to the police..."

"Don't!" I yelled then, picturing Tommy's fists unmercilessly slamming over and over again into my body, breaking every bone, until I couldn't escape from him. "Please don't say anything," I said, grabbing ahold of Debbie's hand to prevent her from leaving.

"Murph..."

"No, please!" I begged, my voice trembling. "I'll do anything..."

"Murphy, don't tell me..."

"Money?" I whispered then, turning around and unlocking the safe, making a grab for a stack of hundred dollar bills and holding them out to her. "Take it," I whispered, my hands trembling as I held them out. "Take them. Take them and keep your mouth shut."

Debbie narrowed her eyes at me. "I don't want that shit."

"Then, what do you want?" I whispered.

She shook her head. "I want this to stop."

I bit my lip. "Can't ask for the impossible, Debs. Doesn't work that way."

"This isn't impossible, Murph!" Debbie cried out then, her voice desperate. "Please. I know you're in there somewhere..."

"I'm here, Debs," I told her. "This is me."

"No, this isn't you," Debbie replied, her voice saddened. "All I want is my sister back, but if you say it's impossible," she went on, opening my office door, "then, maybe, just maybe, it is," she finished, shutting the door behind her, and leaving me there, hundreds of dollars in my hand, literally gripping what my safety meant to me.


	3. Bandit Territory

Chapter Three: Bandit Territory

Suffice it to say, since Halloween, I'd been literally walking on tiptoes for the last couple of weeks in anticipation of Tommy's moods. Sure, he was plenty happy to have received his promotion, but if his little woman stepped a toe out of line, there would be hell to pay, and I knew it. Not wanting a repeat performance, I did my best to only speak when spoken to, and to not say or do anything that would provoke his anger. I knew that this was no way to live, but a part of me believed that I deserved it, and while Tommy broke me to his fancy, I did my best to keep my mind free of negative thoughts.

"Since Mom and Dad moved to Palm Springs last year, I think we'll spend Thanksgiving with your family this year, Murphy."

I nearly dropped the plate that I'd been scouring that morning from Tommy's breakfast—an abundance of scrambled eggs, bacon, sourdough toast dripping with butter, and a healthy amount of potatoes had covered it only twenty minutes ago. Now, I had to do a quick job of pre-scrubbing the bacon grease from its surface before putting it into the dishwasher. "M-my family, Tommy?" I managed to get out, my voice raw from lack of use.

"Yeah," Tommy replied, not put-off by the fear in my voice; in fact, I wouldn't have been surprised if it turned him on. "I know that Kev and V will likely be there, too, with their girls, and it'll be nice for you to have a couple of hours with your kids and siblings. Fiona and Jimmy going to make it over?"

I shrugged, running the grease-covered plate under hot water before shutting it off. I opened the dishwasher, placing the plate accordingly in the bottom half before I shut it. "Doubt it," I said quietly. "Jimmy's usually pretty busy during holiday times—lots of food poisoning cases, or so I hear..."

Tommy gave a short nod at that. "Makes sense," he replied. "But Lip, Debbie, and Franny will show up, right?"

"Right," I said softly.

"And Frank? Don't get to see much of him lately. He's a riot, isn't he?"

I leaned back against the counter, trying to catch Tommy's eye, but he was eyes-deep into his phone at the breakfast table. "That's one word for him, I guess."

"What I don't get is why all of you call him Frank," Tommy went on. "I mean, he's your dad, and the only dad you're going to get. Why don't you call him 'Dad'?"

I sighed. "Well, because, Tommy, he abandoned my siblings countless times over the years, and effectively let me be kidnapped and adopted out by an ill-fit family. Trust me, there are more reasons than one that we call him 'Frank' and not 'Dad'..."

Tommy's eyes finally snapped to mine. "But, still, Murphy, he is your father," he said, his eyes flashing in a dangerous manner. "Father's command respect, just like husband's. And," he went on, getting to his feet, while I did my best not to shrink back from him, "when I become your husband, I'll demand it, Murphy, which I'm sure you know by now," he continued, putting his arm around my waist and yanking me towards him, his eyes boring into mine. "Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded, feeling myself trembling in his grip, but forced my voice not to do the same. "Yeah, Tommy, of course you do. Loud and clear."

Tommy grinned down at me. "You know it fucking turns me on when you quiver in my grip, Murphy?"

I felt the bile rising in my throat. "Y... Yeah?" I ask him.

"Yeah," Tommy replies.

Without hesitation or warning, Tommy promptly turns me around and slams me up against the counter, its edge digging roughly into my ribs. I know there's no point fighting him, but as his fingers deftly yank down my jeans, I find myself gripping onto the counter, bracing myself against it, hating myself for allowing it to come to this. I squeeze my eyes shut, gripping my bottom lip with my teeth as tightly as I can to prevent myself from crying out as my fiancé paws at me, sending revulsion through every inch of my being. I hated, hated having sex with him—that's all it was, really, sex, with the term rape always flying through my mind whenever it happened, for although I never said 'no', my mind constantly screamed it whenever he got that look in his eyes, and I wanted more than anything to shove him away from me and fucking kill him whenever his dick made contact with any part of me.

Grimacing, I continued to grip onto the counter, focusing on the pain that shot up from my fingertips, to my wrists, and, finally, came to register in my brain. I would not allow Tommy's prick to torment me, as it so often did, begging to be let in. After a while, I continued to feel disloyal towards Nicholas, for, even after everything that had happened, we were still legally married, a fact that Tommy never let me forget.

"You're a fucking slut, Murphy," he growled then, grabbing me by my neck and pulling me upwards like a rag doll, holding me against him, my hands flying outwards in half a moment, desperate to claw at something in an effort to distract myself. "Just let my men find Nicholas so that we can get a goddamn courier to sign the fucking divorce papers. Then," he said, allowing his nails to dig into my neck, "you'll _really_ be mine once and for all, and I can finally get some children out of you..."

Swallowing, I felt my skin crawl at the notion of Tommy's child growing inside me, and vowed then that I could never allow that to happen. Keeping my mouth shut, I continued to allow Tommy to do what he liked, knowing full well it would be worse for me if I struggled or protested in any way. I knew he couldn't go on forever—once his pleasure was gained, which was usually quite quick, he would let me go. My thoughts swam with what was life was and what could've been, knowing that I needed to find a way to end this. I couldn't go on like this forever, and knowing that it had been nearly two years, I needed to find a way to break this vicious cycle I'd allowed myself to become a part of.

"Fuck," Tommy hissed through his teeth, finally letting me go, and I made a grab for the counter out in front of me, to prevent myself from falling. "That was incredible, Murphy," he said, slapping my ass before I managed to get my jeans pulled up again. "Wish I had time for round two, but I'll be late if I don't get to the precinct in twenty minutes."

Jerkily, I nodded. "Of course, Tommy," I said, hating myself for allowing my voice to sound raw and vulnerable as I stared out the window and into the back garden, which had once been filled with children's laughter. "Your lunch is in the fridge. Turkey on white, just how you like it, with potato salad, your favorite soda, carrot and celery sticks with ranch dressing, and that walnut brownie from the store you love..."

"Thanks, babe," Tommy said, grabbing a handful of my backside as he bent to dig into the fridge, where a brown bag filled with his lunch was kept front and center, the can of soda placed just beside it. "Well, I'll see you when I get home at six. What are we having?"

"A chicken," I replied. "With lemon. I'm roasting some carrots and potatoes with it. I'm also going to bring home a pie later. Any requests?"

"Oh, you know I love Patsy's chocolate crème as much as you do, Murphy," Tommy said, his voice almost gentle. "I'll see you at six."

"Bye, Tommy," I said, trying my best not to tremble, and hoping that he was satisfied enough from the fucking that he wouldn't want a kiss goodbye.

"Bye, Murphy," Tommy replied, his voice neutral as he walked towards the front door, unlocked it, and pulled it shut and locked behind him.

Heart hammering in my chest, I immediately left the kitchen, dashing through the living room and hurling myself onto the couch, peering through the curtains of the living room window. I spotted Tommy walked to his car, eyes back in his phone, his soda can tucked beneath his arm, and his brown lunch bag gripped in his free hand. My heart continued to hammer as I watched him drive away, and as I fished my own phone out of my pocket, hands shaking as I realized I had an hour before I had to get to the diner.

I dialed the number faster than I could think, my hands continuing to shake as I managed to press my phone up onto my ear.

"Good morning, Dr. Lennox's line," said the voice of a preppy receptionist.

"Good morning, this is Murphy Gallagher, a patient of Dr. Lennox's. I know it's last minute, but does she have any availability this morning?"

"Let me look for you, Miss Gallagher," the receptionist replied patiently, and I could vaguely hear her clicking through Dr. Lennox's electronic calendar. "We just received a cancellation for an appointment twenty minutes from now. Can you make that?"

"Yeah," I said breathlessly into the phone. "I'll be there soon. Thank you."

"All right, Miss Gallagher, I'm putting you right into the system," she replied. "We'll see you here in twenty minutes."

"Thank you," I said again, slowly lowering the phone into my lap and pressing the 'end call' button. Looking up, I felt my eyes draw themselves across the street, and saw Ian out on the porch, smoking a cigarette. Carefully, I got to my feet, stepping into my sneakers and grabbing my jacket, pulling my keys from my pocket as I opened the front door, grabbing my purse before locking it up behind me as I turned back to face the house. I stepped down from the porch, adjusting the strap of my bag as I slowly wandered towards the gate. "Hey," I called across the street, my breath forming clouds in the cold air.

Ian turned and faced me, his expression glum. "Got anything to report?"

I shook my head at him as I stepped through the gate and out onto the sidewalk. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when is your jailer letting us see you?"

I sighed, pulling the gate shut behind me. "Thanksgiving. That is, if you'll have us."

Ian dragged a hand through his hair. "We'll have you."

I nodded stiffly, slowly walking around my car. "Great."

Ian got to his feet then, crossing over to the gate and opening it up before he stepped out onto his side of the sidewalk, and slowly crossed the street towards me. "Murph..."

I blinked, shocked at the use of my nickname. "Yeah?" I asked.

"I know that Debbie went to see you the other week..."

Immediately, I felt my face flush. "Yeah? What of it? She's my sister. Why the fuck shouldn't she come to see me?"

"You know, Murph, the whole, 'Oh, I walked into a door' speech would've worked on us, for a while at least, if you were still a drunk."

I crossed my arms. "I _am_ still a drunk, Ian. I may be sober now, but what about tomorrow, or next year? It's still in my anatomy, even though I may have kicked the habit."

Ian rolled his eyes. "All I'm saying here, Murph, is that all of us would've bought the lie for a while, at least, had you not attempted to bribe Debs."

I lowered my eyes. "So what?"

"So what?!" Ian demanded, reaching out and grabbing me by the arms, and I gritted my teeth to prevent myself from crying out. "What the fuck, Murph?! Does your safety mean nothing to you?!"

I yanked myself away from him. "You wouldn't understand."

"Murph, I understand plenty. Hell, I was fucking in love with a guy who beat me to a bloody pulp before he fucked me..."

I scoffed. "Jesus, Ian, stop being so melodramatic! Mickey's got a heart of gold. You know that and I know that. Please, he's Iana's father..."

Ian sighed. "It didn't used to be like this..."

I lowered my eyes to the various keys in my hand—house, car, various things at Patsy's that needed my clearance before being unlocked... "Like what?" I ask him.

"You used to tell me everything," Ian said quietly, and something in his voice made me raise my eyes to his. "Now you're trying to hand over a few hundreds to Debs just to make her keep her mouth shut. What's happened to you? My sister, my twin, wouldn't act like this..."

I dragged my hand over my face. "It's complicated..."

"What the fuck is so complicated here, Murph?"

I shook my head at him. "I can't talk to you about this," I told him, turning away from him and unlocking my car door. "I'm late for an appointment."

"With a friendly police officer, I hope, or a lawyer who can get you out of this fucked up situation you've inexplicably found yourself in..."

I turned around and stared at Ian then. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," I said, speaking to him through my teeth.

"Then tell me what's going on," Ian said desperately.

I shook my head. "I can't tell you," I replied, getting into my car before he could hear my voice break. "I can't tell anyone," I said quietly, and slammed my door behind me. I watched him as he stumbled backwards, away from my vehicle as I started it up, and knew that from the look in his eyes that he'd heard every ounce of my voice breaking. Pushing the thought from my mind, I pulled away from my typical spot outside my house, attempting to ignore the notion that I was shaking from sobs as I drove to my doctor's appointment.

. . .

 _It was an unseasonably cold day in Chicago that early September night as I drove down the rain-slicked streets, Ian in my passenger seat. It had been three months since Nicholas had run, and Tommy had been flitting in and out of my life as he pleased, due to his busy schedule. He was a friend to me at the moment, and we neither of us had made any promises to each other. On that Saturday night, Debbie was watching the kids at the house while Ian insisted on taking me out somewhere, although he'd refused to give me any further information._

" _You know, I would really hate to pull the twin card," I muttered, putting on my directional as Ian indicated where he wanted me to turn._

 _Ian smirked. "Why would you want to go doing that?" he wanted to know, leaning back in the passenger seat, clearly amused with himself. "It would ruin the surprise."_

 _I rolled my eyes, doing my best to keep them on the road as much as possible. I may have been annoyed with Ian, but fuck, I loved him to pieces, and I was not about to get the two of us wrapped around a telephone pole. "Maybe I wanna ruin the surprise," I replied. "I mean, for Christ's sake, I'm separated from my husband, with little or no hope of ever getting laid again in my life, and I'm running a diner, plus raising three kids, and paying all the bills myself. We may have bought the house outright, but it was sort of nice having Nicholas's attorney salary as a cushion on a rainy day..."_

" _Why do you think I'm taking you out on a Saturday night?" Ian asked._

 _I pulled to a stop in front of the traffic light and leaned back momentarily in my seat before I turned to look over at him. "Are you fucking with me right now?" I wanted to know._

 _Ian raised his eyebrows. "Murph..."_

" _No, seriously, Ian, I want to know," I said. "My husband, someone that I loved but hardly ever said it to, just walked out of my life three months ago. Ripped me to pieces—you know how hard it is me to hold it together on a daily basis..."_

 _Ian sighed. "Murph, please. I don't want you beating yourself up for not proclaiming your love every five seconds."_

 _I scoffed, turning back to the traffic light, which flashed green in the rain. Quickly, I put my car back into drive and pressed on the gas, gliding steadily through the intersection, keeping a cursory glance on Ian, making sure I was still heading in the right direction. "Yeah?" I asked him, rolling my shoulders in an effort to distract myself. "Why not?"_

" _Because, none of us Gallagher's are wired like that," Ian replied. "Look, Murph. I love you, but you're not an exception here. It's not something we really say. Besides, I've told you that I only said it to Mickey once."_

 _I pursed my lips. "Yeah, well, nature versus nurture and all that shit," I said, tucking a stray hair behind my ear._

 _Ian laughed. "Yeah? How do you mean?"_

 _I tossed my hair, growing exasperated with it—Debbie had layered on the hairspray that night and teased it up, so it looked like my head was blowing a red bubble. She'd allowed some strands to escape, and they were now systematically tickling my cheeks in a manner most annoying when one was attempting to focus on their driving. "I guess I thought I'd be different from you guys, in a way, because of how I was raised..."_

" _Hey, no Dr. Normal talk tonight," Ian told me firmly. "And don't worry. You and I are going to have a fantastic time. I promise."_

 _I sighed. "Yeah, right. It's Saturday night, where most young people find themselves in clubs and shit. You may be single, Ian, but I'm on the cusp of divorce and a potential relationship with another man, and I don't want to hear you bitching about it tonight. And then there's the matter of drinking, which you can do but I can't..."_

" _Clubs have full bars, which have qualified bartenders, who are perfectly capable—or should be—of making any alcoholic beverage virgins," Ian replied patiently._

 _I gripped onto the steering wheel tightly, moving to turn at the next intersection when Ian commanded it. "I'm not going to fuck anyone."_

" _Yeah?" Ian asked. "Why not?"_

 _I shrugged. "I don't do one-night-stands."_

 _Ian laughed. "Your first two times were one-night-stands."_

 _I stuck my tongue out at him. "Fine. I don't do one-night-stands anymore."_

 _Ian sighed. "Murph, come on. We're twenty-seven, and we both deserve to live a little. What's wrong with having a little fun?"_

 _I slumped in my seat then, my shoulders deflating. "I don't know. I guess I still feel loyalty to Nicholas on some level..."_

" _Hey, that son of a bitch left you, and you know it," Ian said firmly. "Just let go—just for one night—and have some fun with your twin brother."_

 _I shook my head at him. "You're terrible," I reply. "Now if you were taking me to a gay bar, that would be something I'd be game for..."_

 _Ian cocked an eyebrow at me. "Now that Nicholas is gone, you wanna bat for the other team again?" he asked._

 _I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I guess the notion of fucking a man right now seems just wrong to me... Maybe I'm going through a man-hating phase, I don't know. All I do know is, I do want to get laid, admittedly, but I'm not sure what I want..."_

 _Ian laughed. "Well, trust me, there will be plenty of people falling all over you."_

 _I rolled my eyes. "Doubt it. We'll likely just fuck in one of the restrooms and then once they try to undress me, they'll see my stretch marks, and say thanks but no thanks."_

 _Ian laughed again. "Oh, my god, stop! You do not have stretch marks!"_

 _I gave Ian a dirty look. "What do you know?"_

" _Murph, other than the kids and Debs, I'm the only one who's seen you naked recently," Ian explained in a patient voice._

 _I glared at him. "You have not!"_

" _Okay, fine—in your underwear—but I know what stretch marks are, Murph, and, believe me, you don't have them."_

 _I scoffed. "Thanks a lot," I muttered._

" _Turn here," Ian said quietly._

 _We pulled into the lot adjacent to a brick building; I could see a couple of customers leaving the joint as we got out of the car, and I could hear and feel the music pumping along the street. Ian pulled me towards the bouncer, where my full face of makeup wasn't fooling him, and he carded me anyway, but I didn't give a fuck. Once we'd gotten past and through the door, the neon lights momentarily blinded the two of us, and we each reached out for one another before we managed to stumble into the club. The bar was kitty-corner to the dance floor, where I noticed a DJ situated on a high platform just above that, massive headphones covering his ears, and giant tattoos all over his muscled arms._

" _Holy shit," I whispered, getting an eyeful of the place._

 _Ian grinned. "Happy we came?"_

 _I rolled my eyes. "Don't try to play nice we me, Gallagher."_

" _Sorry, Gallagher," Ian replied, smirking as he put an arm around my shoulders and steered me towards the bar. "One Old Style and a virgin strawberry daiquiri," Ian said to the bartender, who nodded and began to get our drinks ready._

 _I raised my eyebrows at Ian as the bartender got our drinks ready. "Wow. You just ordered me the most pussy drink you could think of, didn't you?"_

 _Ian grinned. "Least I didn't order you a fuzzy navel."_

 _I scoffed. "At least," I said, perching on the barstool and watched as Ian did the same. Our drinks were presented quickly, and I leaned downwards, placing the thin plastic straw between my teeth and sucking down the red drink, which really just tasted like a glorified slushy. "But let's get something straight here—_ you _came here to get laid."_

 _Ian shrugged, lifting up his bottle and sipping at it. "So?"_

 _I breathed sharply through my nose then in exasperation. "Are you fucking kidding me right now Ian?" I hissed at him. "All that sincerity was just to get me out of the house?! I'm wearing one of Fiona's club dresses right now!"_

" _Yeah, and it looks way better on you," Ian replied._

 _I rolled my eyes. "You are not helping right now, mister."_

" _All right, fine," Ian replied, "I'll make a deal with you."_

 _I raised my eyebrows, holding my drink in my hand and sipping it slowly. "I'm listening," I replied, not leaving any room in my tone for him to budge me._

" _How about I help you hook up with someone before I find someone for me, and then the minute you want to leave, we can go?"_

 _I pursed my lips. "You know as well as I do that once you get your dick into a guy's ass, that you'll have to finish."_

 _Ian smiled. "I've never known an unsatisfied customer to quick service."_

 _I lowered my drink back down onto the bar and make mock-gagging noises. "Okay. Don't ever tell me that again."_

 _Ian grinned down at me. "Noted." He turned and looked up and down the bar for a moment before he allowed his eyes to slowly drift over to the dance floor. "You know what you're looking for here, Murph?"_

" _Hmmm?" I asked him._

" _Taco or burrito?" he asked._

" _Dammit—now I'll never eat Mexican food again," I muttered._

" _Murph, be serious for two seconds, please. We're two fully-grown adults who are allowed to have a little fun. Now, do you want to fuck a dude or a chick?"_

" _Jesus Christ, this isn't Amazon or something," I said through my teeth, allowing my eyes to wander a bit around the club. "Holy fuck," I said, reaching out and making a grab for Ian's arm, and Ian nearly lost control of his bottle._

" _Hey, Murph! Watch it!"_

" _Do you see that woman over there—at the end of the bar?!" I hissed, whipping back around to face him. "Red mini dress, long blonde hair, gold necklace..."_

 _Ian followed my gaze to where I'd been looking and caught sight of my target. "Yeah, I see her. I mean, she's hot..."_

 _I sighed. "That's Jessica," I whispered._

" _Jess—?" Ian's eyes widened then as he turned back to me. "Wait. You're being serious with me right now, Murph?"_

 _I nodded. "Yeah," I said quietly._

" _How do you know it's her?" he asked._

 _I sighed. "I bought her that necklace," I replied. "I gave it to her the day that Dr. Normal caught us together in my bedroom..."_

" _You gonna go talk to her?"_

" _Why? Should I?" I whispered._

 _Ian shrugged. "Up to you."_

 _I bit my lip, finishing the rest of my drink and getting to my feet. "Okay, I'll go and talk to her. I mean, I guess I will... You okay here without me?"_

 _Ian smiled. "Go and have fun, Murph. I'll be fine."_

 _I nodded, squeezing Ian's hand for a moment as I walked down the length of the bar and turned at its corner, making my way towards Jessica. "Jess?" I asked, my voice somehow audible above the pumping beat of the DJ's mix._

 _Jessica looked up from her phone then, her eyes focusing on me briefly before they widened and she got to her feet. "Oh, my god, Scar!"_

" _Murphy," I said, smiling at her. "I went back to my birth name."_

" _Right, right," Jessica said, hesitating for a moment before stepping forward and pulling me into her arms. "Oh, my god, it is so good to see you!"_

" _You too," I replied, pulling back after a moment and taking a seat next to her. "So, I mean, how's life going for you?"_

" _Well, I'm on a business trip out here for a week," Jessica replied._

" _And your husband and the kids?"_

" _Things have changed a bit," she said breathlessly. "We still care about each other, but our rules whenever one of us is out of town are that we can have all the fun we want, provided that it doesn't involve illegal drugs."_

 _I raised my eyebrows. "So, open marriage, then?"_

 _Jessica nodded. "Pretty much, yeah." She lowered her eyes to my hands then, blatantly looking for a wedding ring. "You're not married?"_

" _Separated," I replied. "My husband—soon-to-be ex—has run off god knows where. But I have the kids, so it's keeping me here."_

" _I see," Jessica replied. "And the firm? That's how you met, right?"_

 _I nodded. "Yeah, we met at the firm. Um, I actually quit the firm. My older sister had this diner and when she moved to New York, she gave it to me."_

" _So, you own a restaurant now?" Jessica asked._

 _I nodded. "That's right."_

 _Jessica smiled. "You happy?"_

 _I laughed a little then. "Well..." I said, unwilling to deny the magnitude between the two of us any longer, and felt my hand extending to touch her leg beneath the counter of the bar. "I guess you could say I am. Now."_

 _Jessica smiled at me. "And what are you doing, Murphy?"_

 _I returned her smile. "Whatever I want," I replied._

 _Jessica caught my hand, but didn't push me away from her. "Things got fucked last time we did this, Murphy. You let me take control, and I thought we would, I don't know, run away together or something. But you broke my heart."_

 _I sighed. "My heart was broken too, Jess. I couldn't accept who I was."_

" _And now?"_

 _I felt my lips curl into a smile. "Now I think it's time for some fun," I replied, hopping down off the barstool and taking Jessica by the wrist._

 _I pulled her behind me then, down the hallway towards the ladies room, and was pleased to see that it was a one-seater, and that nobody was in line for it. Yanking her inside, I locked the door quickly, staring at her in the dim lighting of the room, before I pulled her at full-force towards me and kissed her. I felt relieved when Jessica kissed me back, and we mutually dug underneath our short dresses, pawing at the areas between our legs. I felt our hearts hammering together as we continued tasting each other, and I found it was just the same as it always had been._

" _Miss me?" Jessica asked me breathlessly._

 _I pulled my lips briefly away from hers and stared at her. "Of course."_

 _She sighed. "I loved you, you know, Murphy."_

 _I nodded. "I loved you too, Jess."_

 _She smiled then, yanking me back towards her, and we finished what we'd started back in college all those years ago._

. . .

"Murphy Gallagher to see Dr. Lennox," I said, stepping forward in a cautious manner towards the receptionist's desk.

"Oh, hello, Miss Gallagher," said the receptionist. Her cocoa-colored skin made her clear lip gloss stand out perfectly. "I'm Destiny. I'll be checking you in."

"Nice to meet you," I replied.

"Okay, you're all checked in," she said. "Dr. Lennox will be out shortly."

"Thank you," I said quietly, making my way over to the waiting area, and perching on one of the offered chairs. I took my phone out from my purse, inwardly cursing myself for doing so, for I had successfully driven my family away from me—just like Tommy had wanted—so of course I wouldn't be having any correspondence that morning. Shaking my head, I returned my phone to my bag and just sat there, willing for the door to open and, when it did, I felt immediate relief to see Dr. Lennox standing there.

"Come on back, Murphy," Dr. Lennox said.

I got to my feet and made my way over to the door, following her back into her office and taking the offered chair. "Good to see you, Dr. Lennox."

"You, too, Murphy," she replied, sitting behind her desk. "How are you feeling this morning? Is everything all right?"

I sighed. "Not too bad, thanks. How are you?"

"I can't complain," she replied. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?"

I bit my lip. "I guess you could say it's slightly embarrassing..."

"Embarrassing? How?" she asked. "I am your doctor, after all..."

"I'd like a different method of birth control," I said quietly. "Tommy and I have been using condoms but I really don't want to have more children. I know it's reckless but we had sex earlier today and he didn't use protection, so I think something more effective—maybe something I can do—would be better..."

Dr. Lennox nodded. "What did you have in mind, Murphy?"

I locked my eyes with hers. "I'd like to begin the shot," I replied. "I know that the failure rate is one-percent or less, and I think it'd be a good idea to get right on that."

"Any particular reason why you don't want more children?"

"I have three already that don't live with me," I said quietly. "It wouldn't seem very fair to them if I just kept popping them out."

"There are permanent ways of preventing pregnancy, Murphy," Dr. Lennox said quietly, "if it is a cause for concern."

I gave her a small smile. "Nothing in life is permanent," I reply.


	4. Two Worlds Collide

Chapter Four: Two Worlds Collide

I got to the diner that morning after my shot had been administered by Dr. Lennox. Of course, my reasons for going on it in the first place couldn't readily be discussed, and I had to sign a goddamned form in order to get it so quickly, but, all in all, I knew it was the right thing to do for me at the time. The last thing I needed was a baby depending on me, in utero or outside of it, when I was getting closer and closer to my breaking point. I knew that I was at high-risk for breaking sobriety a second time; Tommy, like Frank, believed that AA was a joke and that giving yourself over to a higher power was a bunch of bullshit.

I parked in front of Patsy's about half an hour after my appointment, pulling off my gloves and massaging my temples deftly with my fingers. The notion that Tommy had been inside me just a little over an hour ago made me sick, and I'd also asked for a morning-after pill from Dr. Lennox, just in case, due to his carelessness. Of course, I could've easily said no to Tommy; and yet, I was becoming conditioned not to do so, knowing full well that he could've slammed his fist into my face—or another part of my body—at a million miles an hour, and I wouldn't be able to duck in time to prevent it.

I dashed the tears from my eyes, making sure that they weren't red-rimmed before I got out of my car and did my best not to slip on the rain-slick street. Grabbing my purse and slamming my door behind me, I hopped up onto the sidewalk, locking my car and making my way towards the door of Patsy's and letting myself in. "Morning," I said to my staff, attempting to grin at them all as I trudged back, going in through the employees only area, down the small hallway, and into my office. Shutting my door behind me, I leaned against it, dragging my hand across my face before I shrugged out of my jacket and forced myself to straighten up and walk slowly towards my desk.

As I pulled myself forward at my desk, rolling my shoulders and setting my phone down, breathing in sharply through my teeth as I inched forward, pulling the quotes of pie ingredient prices towards me. Grimacing, I pulled back then, lifting up my sweater and peering at my stomach, where a three-inch bruise met my eyes. I rolled my eyes, knowing that it had happened when Tommy had slammed me repeatedly into the counter that morning, during his vicious attack, where it was better to just stand up straight and take it rather than take a beating. I shook my head then, hating that he'd left a mark on me, despite the notion that I'd cooperated with him completely, and knew that I'd signed on for this. I had to keep going.

I keep going through the quotes on prices of inventory for over an hour, finding that my enemy of math was now a welcome distraction from all that was going on in my life. I ran a hand along my stomach, twitching a little at the sparks of pain my own touch rendered, and shook my head at myself again. I knew I could've run with Nicholas, but I wasn't stupid; eventually, the law would have caught up with all of us, and the kids could've been taken away. They were better off with Ian than in some state-run home; I knew that much from the times my siblings had been dumped in foster care. And with my own adoption/kidnapping to consider, I knew that Ian would show them the love, appreciation, compassion, and understanding they truly needed.

"Murphy?" called a voice about an hour and a quarter into my paperwork, and the door to my office opened slowly.

I looked up, forcing a smile onto my face. "Hey, Sierra. Everything okay? Is a customer being belligerent or harassing? Need me to show them some South Side?"

Sierra smiled back at me. "No, Murphy, it's not that. You actually have someone out here who wants to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" I asked, pushing back from my desk and getting to my feet, continuing to smile despite the fact that it felt as if I was standing on blocks of lead.

"He says it's personal," Sierra explained.

I blinked. "Uh, yeah, okay. I have a few minutes... Who is it?"

"It's me," said a voice, and Sierra stepped back, allowing my visitor to come forward, and my jaw nearly hit the floor when I saw who it was.

"Liam," I gasped as Sierra drifted back out into the restaurant to give us some privacy. "Come on in, little man," I said, ushering him into my office and shutting my door behind me. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Liam sighed. "Saw you talking with Ian earlier."

I bit my lip. "Yeah? You saw that, huh?"

He nodded. "And heard some of it."

I pursed my lips, crossing my arms. "Yeah, well, we Gallagher's tend to be loud when we wanna be," I joked, "so, it'd be difficult for you not to. Hear it, I mean..."

Liam looked me squarely in the eye then, and it was the first time that I truly considered how much time had gone by from his point of view. He was in the middle of his childhood when I'd first returned home; now he was smack-dab in the middle of his adolescent years as someone who was taking college courses, due to skipping three grades in elementary school. "I wanna ask something, Murph, and I want a straight answer."

I sighed, my shoulders deflating ever so slightly. "I know what you're going to ask, Liam, and I don't want you involved in this."

"Why the hell not?" he demanded. "I'm your brother..."

"Yeah, you're my brother—my _youngest_ brother," I replied, "who I helped raised, although god knows I should've been here from day one..."

"Murph, stop it with your back story for two minutes, please!" Liam said, his voice bordering on annoyance as he rolled his eyes. "Come the fuck on! I'm not a child anymore, and I reserve the right to ask why the hell you aren't a part of my lives, or your kids' lives, anymore..."

I scoffed. "Jesus, Liam. Why do you have to make something sound so overdramatic?"

"I'm not being overdramatic! I'm being your brother!" Liam's dark eyes sized me up then, and I wondered what he was thinking. He still possessed his sweet, sensitive side—even in his teenage years—and my heart broke that I couldn't be honest with him, or with anyone. "Please, Murph, I'm literally begging you. I'm your brother..."

I shook my head at him, literally cutting him off. "Which makes me your sister, which gives me the right to ask why the hell aren't you in class?"

Liam narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "This isn't about me, Murphy. This is about you." He spoke in a hard, firm voice, and the notion that he was addressing me by my full name was not lost on me. "We're talking about you here," he said again.

"You know that Lip and Ian will go ape shit if you cut class," I said warningly. "Lip had to drop out of college, you know, because of family shit. A college degree can get you really far in your life, Liam. I know it can, and you'll have such a bright future—"

"Really?" he replied, cuttingly. "Like yours?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You watch it, Liam."

"Why?" he demanded, getting up into my face, and I very nearly shrank back from him. "Can't handle the truth for two seconds, Murphy?! Here's the truth for you—you have a fucking college degree, and look where it got you! Back to the ghetto where you were born! Sure, you got a cushy job for a while, but you ditched that when fucking Fiona begged you to take over her little restaurant! Sure, you're your own boss and all that good shit, but it contributed to the breakdown of your already failing marriage! You constantly let your obnoxious side out—blaming your past for everything that went wrong in your life! Oh, boo-hoo, I'm Murphy, poor me, I was adopted by a rich couple, and was given everything I could've ever wanted in life—"

I felt myself sweating from beneath the bulky sweatshirt I was wearing, gritting my teeth at Liam's tirade against me. The mocking tone he used, the lack of information on the subject at hand, truly cut me to the core. I'd never given him the details of my past with Tina and Dr. Normal—only Nicholas and Ian knew the full version, while Fiona, Lip, Debbie, and Tommy knew the abridged version, while Carl knew a PG rendition of it all. As I stood there, listening to my youngest sibling hurl insults at me about my past, I felt myself unraveling quickly...

"—but it just never seemed to be enough for you, did it, Murphy? Always going on and on and on about how Monica arranged for you to be kidnapped and sent off to the other end of the country, to be raised by a wealthy childless couple. You had everything you could've ever wanted, but you just had to figure out where you came from, and even though the mystery was solved a long time ago, but you keep going back to it, over, and over, and over again. Back to the beginning, almost as is you're stuck in a fucking time loop or something! Give it the fuck up, Murphy! You had everything you needed! Deal with it!"

I shook my head then, and felt relief when Liam finally ended his little speech. "You don't know the half of it, Liam," I replied, deathly calm.

He crossed his arms. "What don't I know now?"

"My adoptive father, Martin, left the family unit when I was five," I reply, and Liam's jaw stiffens then in momentary discomfort. "Tina, my adoptive mother, tried to make it work for a few months, but she met a doctor, Norman, or Dr. Normal, and they had a whirlwind romance and got married soon after her divorce from Martin was finalized. Tina thought she couldn't have kids, right?" I said, chuckling darkly. "Surprise, surprise—she had three boys, one right after the other, and I was suddenly this adopted child that didn't belong. After the boys were born, I was neglected, which is such a terrible form of abuse, because it's like you don't even exist," I went on, my tone bitter as I recounted my childhood. "Then, the boys soon realized that I was this outlier among the family, and constantly pulled shit that would get me into trouble. Dr. Normal would then tell my mother to continue to ignore me, and, once she and the boys formed their own little club, as it were, Dr. Normal was free to use me as his playground. I'd get beatings with his fists, or with his belt, or whatever he could manage to get his doctor hands on."

Liam looked away. "I'm sorry, Murphy. I didn't know."

"No, you didn't, but that's not the worst part," I replied, and his eyes snapped back to mine. "I had a girlfriend, named Jessica, when I was about your age. We started hanging out, I guess you could say, and it escalated from there..."

"I know what you mean," Liam said quietly.

"Good," I said. "Anyhow, after a couple of years, we grew a little more...brazen, in our pursuits, and so I decided it would be fun to hook up in my childhood bedroom, instead of the dorm room I had at college."

"Dr. Normal catch you?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he fucking did," I replied. "Threw Jessica out of the house, and beat me for several hours. Wanted to beat the dyke out of me," I said bitterly, recalling his harsh words for the first time in years—the one element of the story that nobody else knew. "So, sure, Liam, I did have shit I needed, or thought I did at the time—cell phone, laptop, car... But what I really needed was love, something I didn't feel from anyone until I was sixteen-years-old, from Jessica, although I wouldn't understand it for over five years. I may have come home, Liam, but it was originally because I got a job here, thanks to my college degree. I didn't even know I was adopted until I accepted the job."

"You didn't know?" Liam asked.

I shook my head. "No. Tina told me just after my graduation from college."

"So, all those years you lived with your adopted family, you just thought Tina and Martin were your biological parents?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"And the treatment Dr. Normal put you through?"

I shrugged. "I was so busy working on school work to get myself out of there from the time that I was a kid, that I didn't socialize much with people," I said quietly. "And since I didn't socialize much with people, I had no way of knowing what a loving family looked like. Unfortunately, I just assumed that the way I was being raised was completely normal."

Liam stared at me then—not accusingly, just curiously. "So, all this is difficult for you to talk about, then?" he asked.

I gave him a stiff nod. "Yeah."

"So, is that why you won't talk to us now? Any of us?"

I lowered my eyes. "Can you just drop it, please?"

Liam reached out then and gripped my arm, so much so that my eyes flashed back to his. "Liam, stop that! You're hurting me!"

"Talk to me," Liam said softly. "Please. Talk to me, or Lip, or Ian, or Debbie. Hell, even call Fiona and talk to her. But talk to one of us, at least..."

I smiled ruefully. "Carl?"

Liam shrugged. "We never know if he's gonna be in a good service area."

I laughed a little then. "Good point."

"So, are you going to talk to us? Any of us?"

I sighed, somehow managing to yank my arm out of his grip. I stepped around him then and pulled open my office door. "I have a lot of work to do, Liam," I said levelly, "and so I don't have time to talk right now. But thank you for stopping by."

Liam trudged slowly to the door, before daring to look at me one final time. "Murphy, I just want you to know that this isn't over."

I shook my head at him. "All of this is over," I replied, shutting the door on his face.

. . .

I had wanted to hit him, and it scared the shit out of me.

The pain and anger that coursed through me as soon as I heard Liam's footsteps finally drifting away from the other side of my office door would not leave me. Rage peppered my veins, and I gripped onto the paneling of the door, bracing myself against it, and wondered then if all the rage, bitterness, and unhappiness that now bubbled inside me would ever go away. I dragged my hand across my forehead, beads of sweat attaching themselves to my fingers, which I promptly wiped on my jeans.

I wanted to hit my younger brother. And I hated myself for it.

I stepped out of my office around three o'clock that afternoon, shuffling out to the alley, the cool mid-autumn weather welcoming onto my sweating skin. What I wouldn't give for an ice cold beer right about then... I pushed the thought from my mind, leaning against the back wall of the restaurant, and fumbling in my pocket for my pack of cigarettes. I lit one up promptly, shuddering as its comforting warmth filled my veins, before taking it out from between my lips and tapping it slightly with my thumb, allowing it to rest between my index and middle finger, the plume of smoke wafting into the cool air.

"You look like shit."

The familiarity of the voice caused the hairs on every inch of my body to stand at attention, and I turned to see Ian coming down the alley. "Hey," I said, attempting to appear nonchalant as he stepped forward, and allowed him to take the cigarette from me. "How'd you find me?"

"Sierra said you were back here, that you take a smoke break around three every afternoon," he said, inhaling the cigarette for a moment before he handed it back to me. "Liam texted. Said he stopped by this morning."

I shrugged, sticking the cigarette back into my mouth and coaxing more of the tobacco into my lungs quickly, not even a cough escaping my lips. "Yeah?" I said, my tone noncommittal as I finally released the cigarette, offering it to Ian, who took it. "What of it?"

Ian stared at me then, allowing the plume of smoke to escape from between his fingers as he contemplated what he was going to say next. "You're going to just stare at me dead in the face and pretend you don't know what the fuck I'm talking about?"

I grumbled under my breath, leaning back against the rear of the restaurant again, raising my eyes to the cloud-filled November sky. "Look, Ian... I don't know why you came by, but I'm guessing it has to do with your interrogation sessions of late."

"They're not interrogation sessions, Murph, Jesus," Ian said under his breath. "Can't you just accept that your family actually gives a shit? Did Dr. Normal fuck you up so much that you're unable to see that? Or is it Tommy, spreading lies against us?"

My head snapped around to glare at Ian, and even though the rage still bubbled just beneath the surface, my voice trembled when I spoke. "Don't you dare speak about Tommy that way," I said to him, snatching the cigarette back. "I don't give a fuck how you feel about him, but he and I are engaged, and you've got to accept that."

"I don't have to accept shit, Murphy," Ian said, narrowing his eyes at me as I stuck the cigarette back in between my teeth. "I fucking hate Tommy for what he's done to you, and what he continues to do to you."

I shake my head at him, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Tommy isn't doing shit to me, Ian, and the sooner you get with the program and believe that, the better."

Ian crossed his arms. "I don't believe you."

I rolled my eyes. "Jesus, Ian, I'm not asking you to fucking believe me, or to trust me. I'm not asking for anything like that. Just attempt to be civil when we come over for Thanksgiving in a few weeks. We've had enough holiday drama..."

"Why the fuck can't you just drop him, Murph?" Ian demanded. "You haven't even given me the whole story about Nicholas cutting out. All I know is that he hit you. Did something happen with Tommy that would make him want to leave?!"

"Jesus, just leave it and all of it alone," I said, shoving the cigarette back at him and turning away from him. "I'm sick and tired of all this goddamned rehashing. Just...stop..."

"I'd stop if you gave me a fucking straight answer!" Ian shouted, grabbing me by my shoulder and holding me there.

"Fuck!" I yelled. "Let go of me!"

"Not until you tell me the fucking truth!" he screamed back, turning me around to face him. "I don't understand what's gotten into you lately! What's so bad about leaning on your family? I mean, we never see you anymore, and your personality has totally changed... What the fuck are you hiding from us, Murph?"

I shook my head at him. "I'm not hiding anything—"

"Don't give me that bullshit, because it's a load of it," Ian said, gripping me by my shoulders and pinning me to where I stood. "What the fuck happened with Nicholas?"

I shook my head, turning away. "He got pissed because Tommy crossed a line," I replied. "I mean, you know about him kissing me..."

Ian rolled his eyes in disgust. "Of course I do—Kev fucking told me," he replied. "But what's the big deal? Was it because you didn't tell Nicholas about it?"

"Of course I didn't tell Nicholas about it!" I shot back, my eyes flashing back to his. "I'd only just told him about relapsing and drinking again, not to mention the fact that I knew about the P.I. that I found out Hugo got to fucking stalk me! We were on thin ice, Ian, but the real breakdown came when I told him that Tommy came over and fucked me when he was locked up for interrogation..."

Ian stared at me then, almost as if he didn't even know me, as he slowly released his grip upon my shoulder. "What the fuck, Murphy?" he whispered. "Why would you...?"

"Tell him the truth?" I asked him then, hating that I had to lie to Ian, but also knew that I had to keep my story straight. "Nicholas had already made up his mind like the spineless coward he was to fucking run off like a pussy. Not my fault Tommy decided to step up and pick up the pieces of my shattered romantic life..."

"I thought you would at least call Jessica, after that night at the club," Ian replied.

I rolled my eyes. "Jessica? Please. Told me right afterwards that she wanted to go back to her husband and kids. Who was I to stand in her way?"

Ian looked me squarely in the eye. "You never told me that."

"There's a lot I haven't told you," I reply, "and won't tell you."

"What's the harm in telling me?" Ian asked, his tone gentle. "What are you so afraid of? That I won't love you anymore?"

I scoffed. "Love? Jesus. Love doesn't exist for people like me. I can't even fucking to say it to any of my significant others, because I'm so fucking afraid that they'll eventually leave," I mutter then, throwing myself up against the back of the restaurant, crossing my arms over my chest. "Why does it fucking matter? Everyone always leaves anyway..."

"Murph..."

"Don't," I said, shaking my head at him. "Keep the cigarette..."

"Murph, don't!" Ian shouted then, grabbing ahold of my sweatshirt then, pulling at it, and even though I struggled against him, he got it off from over my head, and there I stood before him, in my tank top and jeans, turning around to face him then, almost as if for the first time, the dots of black and purple covering the vast majority of my skin.

"Ian," I said quietly, my voice shaking again. "It's not..."

"Don't fucking tell me it's not what it looks like!" Ian screamed, his eyes filled with rage. "I can't believe you would keep this from me—"

I shake my head at him. "It's not—it's really not! Please...don't..."

"The jitters, the baggy clothes, the screaming with pain whenever one of us touches you... What the fuck is going on in that house?"

I shake my head. "None of your fucking business, Ian," I say flatly, reaching out in an attempt to get my sweatshirt back, and fail miserably.

"Don't tell me it's none of my fucking business! You're my sister!"

"It's none of your fucking business if I say it's none of your fucking business!" I scream back at him, finally managing to get my sweatshirt back, and pull it over my head. " _Nothing_ is going on here that should concern you—!"

"If Tommy's fucking beating you, Murphy, I think it's a cause for concern—"

"Just shut the fuck up!" I yelled then, cutting him off. "You don't know shit! None of you know shit about any of this. Just fucking drop it. Please."

Ian stared at me then, slowly opening his mouth. "Murph, please..."

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "I'm done. All of this is fucking done," I reply, turning on my heel before he can stop me again, and head back into the restaurant.

. . .

Tommy had an undercover assignment, leaving at dawn the following day, and he informed me that he was assigned until the night before Thanksgiving. I played the part of a dutiful wife-to-be, stopping at the store and buying all his favorite non-perishable snacks, and waking up with him to kiss him goodbye before he left in the morning, before the sun came up. I trudged back up the stairs—after the obligatory kiss was given—and promptly went into the master bedroom, only to pull off the silk robe Tommy insisted I wear, and yanked on a T-shirt and shorts, before I went down the hallway and into the guest bedroom. I climbed into the bed, about to sleep, but my heart momentarily broke when I inhaled the sheets; since Tommy didn't like overnight guests, the room hadn't been touched since before Nicholas had left. The sheets smelled of him, sending a tingle through me, and I gripped the pillow then, my eyes filling with tears as I clutched it to my heart, my eyes growing heavy as I fell asleep...

I was on my toes on Thanksgiving Day, knowing full well that Tommy would expect me to be on my best behavior when we saw my family. I had gone to the diner just an hour before we were due over at the house, picking up a pie for the dinner itself, before Tommy and I walked across the street together. I let myself in with my key—heaven knew why Ian still permitted me to hold onto it—and walked cautiously over the threshold, aware of Tommy shadowing me the entire time. Forcing a smile onto my face as we walked into the living room, I did my best not to flinch as Tommy shut the outer door behind me.

"Hi, everyone," I said, wanting very much to run up and hug each of them in turn, but also knowing full well that they wouldn't want to be anywhere near me.

"Pie?" Debbie asked, giving it a cursory glance.

I nodded. "Yep. Baked it myself."

"Great," she said, snatching it from me and bringing it into the kitchen, where I noticed Ian and Lip helping V cook.

Kev was sitting on the couch, a bottle of Old Style in his hand, and scattered around him were Franny, Liam, Iana, Fionn, Clayton, Amy, and Gemma.

"Hey, Kev," I said, trying to smile at him.

Kev merely looked up at me for a fraction of a second. "Murph," he said levelly, turning back to the game on T.V.

"Hi, babies," I said, walking up to my children, Tommy, for once, giving me some space, and crouched before them all. "How're you doing?"

Iana shrugged. "Fine."

"Okay," I said, turning to my boys. "And you guys?"

Iana turned to her brothers, her expression matching Fiona's in a moment of protection. "It's just Mama," she said, her tone gentle, but I could still feel the malice directed at me. "Go ahead. Tell her 'hello'."

"Hello," Fionn said uneasily.

"Hi," Clayton said a moment later.

"Hey, guys," I said, wanting more than anything to snatch them up into my arms and kiss them all, but knowing they wouldn't appreciate that. "Good to see you," I went on, wanting to say more, but forced myself to get to my feet and walk into the kitchen, where Tommy had already invited himself to go. "Hey, V," I said, and, thankfully, she gave me a kind smile, although her dark eyes seemed to watch Tommy wherever he walked. "Can I help with anything?"

"We're fine," Debbie cut across her, narrowing her eyes at me before she brought out the stack of plates to set the table.

"Just hang out," V said with a smile, squeezing my shoulder, and I did my best not to wince at the pressure.

"Sure," I replied. "I can do that..."

"Hello, my darling daughter," Frank boomed then, coming down the stairs, his hair freshly washed, as he buttoned a shirt and came towards me, kissing me on the cheek, and I did my best to smile at him.

"Hey, Frank," I said, relieved that he hadn't called me "Murph".

"Gee, Frank, mothballs," Lip said, his tone filled with sarcasm. "Sure as shit is a better scent than Old Style."

"Speaking of," Frank said, walking over to the fridge and retrieving a bottle. "I think I'll indulge in one before dinner. Would you like one, Murph?"

 _Thought too soon_... "Well," I began.

"She's fine," Lip said, cutting across me. "Neither of us need that, Frank."

"Right, right," Frank said, walking into the living room. "Kevin, my good man!"

Debbie returned to the kitchen then, likely in pursuit of some silverware. As she stepped inside, she bumped into the back of my shoulder, hard, and I gasped a little too loudly at the sudden impact, and the pain that shot through me immediately afterwards. "Excuse you," Debbie said, not even looking at me, and proceeded to dig through the drawer, managing to find one of everything for everyone, and bringing it back to the table, all of which, Ian noticed.

"Oh, and before we forget," Tommy said, from his place where he stood up against the back wall, "Murphy and I have some news."

Ian's eyes snapped to mine. "Really?" he asked.

"Really," Tommy said, and I could tell from Ian's expression that he was mentally crossing his fingers that I wasn't pregnant. "We've set a wedding date."

"Tommy—" I said, intending to cut across him, as we'd had no such discussion.

"Have you?" V asked, obviously concerned.

"We have," Tommy replied. "We've set it for this June. Isn't that amazing?"

"Fuck this," Ian said, lowering the knife he'd been using the slice the yams.

"Ian?" Lip asked, from where he stood at the sink peeling potatoes, watching as Ian marched over to Tommy without hesitation.

"Tommy, outside, now," he said, narrowing his eyes at him.

Tommy looked amused. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, I think you heard me," Ian said, his voice laced with anger. "Get your ass outside right now before I kick it there."

Tommy laughed aloud. "You fucking with me?" he asked.

Ian's hands quickly balled into fists. "Oh, I'm not fucking with you, Tommy. Get outside."

"Hey, hey, it's Thanksgiving!" V managed to put in, as Ian yanked the door open, and shoved Tommy out onto the porch, and would've kicked him down the stairs had he not moved quickly enough for his liking.

"Ian!" I cried out then, dashing after them.

I vaguely heard the sounds of footsteps behind me, but I didn't care; a million scenarios played out in my head, and I didn't see a positive outcome for any of them. I stumbled out onto the tiny back porch, taking the steps two at a time, until I ended up on the sparse back lawn, my mouth falling open then at what I saw. Ian and Tommy were, quite literally, sparing, circling one another like a lion would its prey, except neither one fell into the category of prey. Each was a fierce lion, combative in their own way, both of their eyes blazing with anger, and I knew then that nothing could be good about this. If this got too out of hand, Tommy could clobber Ian, and it could very well ruin everything I'd worked so hard for—

Ian threw the first punch, but it missed Tommy by a mile, who ducked out of the way, and successfully landing Ian in the gut. Pain flashed across Ian's face, and he dove at Tommy then, slamming his head into Tommy's stomach, who swore as he doubled backwards. Ian dashed backwards from Tommy then, who curled his hands into a fist. I could very nearly see it swinging towards Ian, who also got in position to deliver a decent swing, but I could not let that happen, any of it.

"Stop! Stop! Don't do this!"

I didn't know where the words had come until I found myself charging forward, until I was dead-center in the fray, ignoring my shaking limbs as I stood between them. I became a deer in the headlights in that moment, as the two of them realized too late that I stood there, both of them bringing down their fists before they could stop themselves. And I, caught in the middle, suffered the consequences as the punch was delivered, and I fell down then, between them, a casualty of the fight that these two men in my life had found themselves caught up in.

. . .

My eyelids were heavy, and when I finally found I was able to open them, I was staring at the white ceiling of what I assumed was a hospital. A heart monitor beeped beside me, and an I.V. was placed in the vein of my heavily-bruised right arm. I looked around me then, spotting that Tommy was just outside the door, speaking to someone garbed in a white coat, and realized that he was speaking to the doctor. I sat up in bed as they both stepped inside, shocked as Tommy rushed to my side and kissed me as soon as they'd crossed the threshold.

"What's going on?" I asked, looking around. "Why am I here?"

"You were hit pretty badly in the head," the doctor explained. "Thankfully, you don't have a concussion, and there doesn't seem to be any permanent damage."

I blinked. "Oh. Well, thanks, I guess..."

"Can I have some time with my fiancée now?" Tommy asked, charming as ever.

The doctor smiled indulgently. "Of course," he said, stepping forward and quickly checking over my vitals. "Well, your pupils aren't dilated, and you don't seem to be in any pain. How are you feeling?"

"Just a headache," I replied.

"Understandable," he said. "I'll be back in a few minutes with some pain medication for you, but I see you're in good hands for now," he went on, signing my chart before stepping out of the room and leaving me alone with Tommy.

I turned over and looked at Tommy. "What happened? You and Ian were fighting..."

Tommy nodded. "It was awful, Murphy, really. We were yelling insults, like guys do, and then suddenly you ran in between us. I tried to shove you out of the way, but before I could, Ian suddenly got this crazy look on his face and..."

I blinked. "And... What?"

"He hit you, Murphy," Tommy said, shaking his head. "It was so awful to watch... And then I called 9-1-1, and Ian kept screaming that he was sorry..."

"Did the cops take him?"

"No, no, I pulled some strings," Tommy said, rubbing my shoulder, and I found I was trying not to wince in pain again. "Explained that it was just a stupid fight between me and Ian and then you tried to break it up, got caught in the middle. I said that the punch was meant for me, and my buddies all believed me."

"Are they here?" I asked. "Any of them?"

"Yeah, but don't worry," Tommy said quickly. "I told them I was your fiancée and that you didn't want to see any of them. They'll probably let them know."

I blinked. "Wait... You actually said all that?"

"Of course I did—I need to keep you safe from all of them," Tommy replied, yanking me into his arms and holding me. "Now that we've set a wedding date, maybe I can pull some more stings and track down Nicholas. Then he can sign the divorce papers, and all of this nonsense can be put behind us."

"Nonsense?" I asked then, feeling like a ragdoll in his arms.

"Yeah, Murphy," Tommy said, pulling back. "I've been giving it a lot of thought, and I think I should take a transfer to Palm Springs. You can spend your time with my parents, and I'll be a cop, and then you'll be the perfect little housewife and we can start a family of our own."

I shook my head. "Tommy, you're not serious..."

"I'm dead serious," he replied, crushing my arms in his grip, and I whimpered in pain. "You don't cross me, Murphy. You do what I say. We've been over this."

I jerked my head in a nodding movement, never feeling more like someone's puppet in my entire life than I did then. "Y-yeah, of course," I said, hating myself for stammering, and showing more weakness than I'd ever done in my life. "Whatever you want, Tommy..."

Tommy smiled. "And if I get whatever I want," he continued, his fingers tracing many of the bruises which dotted the surface of my skin, "things like this won't have to happen." His eyes flicked upwards to mine. "Do we understand each other, Murphy?"

I jerked my head again, nodding. "We understand each other, Tommy..."

He grinned. "Good," he replied, pulling me back into his arms. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it, Murphy? Marriage is about compromise and sacrifices, as well as making your husband as happy as you can. I know you want to make me happy..." When I didn't answer, he yanked me back from him then, narrowing his eyes. "Say it," he very nearly growled.

I lowered my eyes. "I want to make you happy, Tommy..."

Violently, he shook me. "Look at me when you're talking to me!" he said through his teeth, quickly losing his temper.

Quickly, I rose my eyes to his. "I want to make you happy, Tommy," I said quietly.

Tommy smiled then, smoothing my arms, thinking that that would assuage the constant pain he caused me, before pulling me gently back into his arms. "That's a good girl, my little Murphy, cooperating with your man," he said gently to me, as one would a child. "And the sooner you understand that, the better."


	5. Never Tear Us Apart

Chapter Five: Never Tear Us Apart

After I was discharged from the hospital, I refused to take any time off from work, and something in Tommy seemed to shift then. While he wanted me to be on my back or in the kitchen preparing meals for him, like he thought a good fiancée should, he didn't say much about me going back to Patsy's so quickly. I continued to wear the bulky clothes and found that my stubborn streak was slowly but surely bubbling just beneath the surface, wanting more than anything to escape from the prison I'd sentenced it to. I felt rage bubble within me whenever Tommy thought that I needed to be punished—which was only typically a punch somewhere on the surface of my body—and, for the first time, I was beginning to think that, perhaps, I didn't deserve such treatment afforded to me.

A week after my release from the hospital, I arrived home early from work and noticed that Tommy's car was not yet parked in the driveway. I hadn't had to go grocery shopping that afternoon, so I decided that I would take the opportunity to attempt to set certain things to rights within my family. Pulling up to the curb, I parked and locked my car before I slid out from inside it, slamming and locking the door before crossing the street and opening the gate of my former dwelling, and stood there for a moment, gripping the metal. Pushing past my fears, I walked up the stairs and let myself inside, looking around.

"Liam took the kids out."

I very nearly started at Ian's voice, coming from the kitchen. I crossed the living room and stood in the doorway, watching as Ian lit up a cigarette and leaned back in the chair. "Good, because I came here to see you."

Ian sighed, deliberately not looking at me as I crossed the kitchen towards him, and took a seat without asking. "Look, Murph, I don't know why you're here," he said quietly as I folded my hands on the tabletop, but nevertheless was pleased when he offered me the cigarette, which I readily took. "After the shit that went down in the hospital..."

"I hope you realize that that was all bullshit," I said quietly, and Ian's eyes snapped immediately to mine.

"Which part?"

"The part where Tommy banned you from seeing me, giving the reason that I didn't want to see you in the first place," I replied. "I always want to see you guys, even if you don't want to see me, and, believe me, I'm sure none of you do..."

Ian sighed, taking the cigarette back. "We're mad at you, Murph, believe it—all of us—but we're worried as fuck for you..."

I nodded, deflating a little in my chair. "I know."

"So, what brings you here, Murph?"

"Well, first of all, besides all the bullshit Tommy put you through, I want you to know that I flat-out don't believe him."

Ian raised his eyebrows. "About?"

"About you being the one that hit me."

He narrowed his eyes. "That son of a bitch said what?"

I sighed. "Please... Please don't call him that, Ian."

"Murphy, the sick bastard has been using you as his personal punching bag for over a year now, and framed me for hitting you on Thanksgiving! This situation is serious!"

I shake my head at him. "Ian, please. I won't have you talking that way about Tommy..."

"Murphy, he said you guys set a wedding date, and you looked and acted like you didn't know what the fuck he was talking about! Did he just say that in front of all of us to placate you into agreeing with him?!"

"Ian, you don't even know him—"

"I know him better than you think I do, Murph," Ian replied darkly. "Mandy, Mickey's sister, had an abusive boyfriend after her and Lip stopped seeing each other. It was more open—the abuse—but she was in denial about the whole thing, too. Said she fell, or walked into a door, and, at first, was willing to leave him, but then she moved away. Managed to get away from him by becoming an escort, but I'll never forget the hell she went through with him..."

I grit my teeth. "You were right, Ian. I'm nothing like Mandy Milkovich."

"Bullshit," Ian replied. "You're staying in an abusive relationship and you're unwilling to get help or get away from your partner. You're denying yourself happiness and allowing Tommy to manipulate you into cutting yourself off from your family. You let him make all the big decisions and you never fucking talk about you having your way."

I cross my arms. "Are you finished?"

"No," Ian replies.

I scoff, shaking my head and getting to my feet, walking away from him. "Goddammit, Ian. You are so unbelievable..."

Ian got up. "I said I wasn't finished—"

"I don't give a fuck if you're finished or not!" I fired back.

Ian caught me then, just beside the living room couch and held me there. "You're also South Side trash, just like Mandy."

Without thinking, I turned around and raised my fist to hit Ian in the mouth, to clock him good, to take out my pent-up rage on him. Two steps ahead of me, Ian caught my fist, not hurting me, just holding it there, so much so that I fully understood what I was about to do. I ripped my fist away from Ian's grip, standing in front of him, feeling the tremors of my body not ceasing, and all I wanted, all I needed...

"Ian," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I'm sorry..."

"Murph?" he asked, searching my face.

I felt my eyes fill with tears then as I threw my arms around him then, having not had a hug from anyone in over a year that wasn't sexual in nature. I felt completely safe in Ian's arms, and felt utter relief as his arms latched around me then and held me there against him, as I somehow managed to stand on my toes and sob into his shoulder. Gripping onto him, I wished I could stay there forever, but I knew that the time was not right yet, and although he could hate me for it, I still couldn't tell him—

"Murph," he whispered then, pulling me back slightly. "Can you please talk to me? Please. We all want to help you."

I shook my head. "Ian," I said brokenly, "I can't..."

He sighed, lowering his eyes then as he took his arms off from around me, snagging my set of keys as he did so. He systematically looked through them before he took the key to the house we stood in off the ring before he handed them back to me. "I believe these are yours," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"Ian—"

Ian shook his head. "I can't keep doing this with you, Murph."

I blinked. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that until or unless you're willing to tell me everything, then I can't have you in the house or around the kids..."

I shake my head at him. "You don't understand..."

"I understand that you have a sick loyalty complex to Tommy—"

I shuddered. "No, Ian. That isn't it at all—"

"I'm tired of hearing your stalling tactics, Murphy. It might work for the rest of our siblings, or maybe it worked with Nicholas—I don't fucking know. All I do know is, until or unless you want to make the kids and the rest of us your family again, then some changes have to be made, and those changes include getting Tommy out of your life for good."

I shook my head. "Ian, I can't do that."

He nodded. "Okay," he replied, walking past me and opening the front door and standing beside it, like he had done when Tommy took me away for the first time. "Then I have nothing more to say to you, Murphy."

"Ian..."

"No," he said, his voice firm. "Liam should be back with the kids soon, and, since you gave me custody, I determine who sees them or not. I don't want you seeing them."

"They're my children," I replied, my voice breaking.

He glared at me. "As far as I'm concerned, as of right now, they're my children," he replied, and something in his tone caused me to tremble. "You'd better get your black and blue ass home before Tommy beats you again," he muttered, coming back into the living room and taking me by the arm, pulling me through the rest of the house before depositing me onto the porch. "I'd like to say it was good to see you, Murphy, but I'd be lying," he replied. "I never thought I'd say or think that, but I guess I just did," he went on, his tone bitter as he shut the door quietly behind me, and, for the first time in a long time, I felt completely alone.

. . .

Six days later, I decided to take a lunch break from work and left my office, just driving around Chicago and feeling ill at ease with myself. Christmas was coming, and all the storefronts were decked out to the nines with festive decorations. I didn't feel much like celebrating that year, for there was truly nothing to celebrate. I'd been banished from the entire family, plus Tommy's parents were in Palm Springs, and I certainly didn't want to go there, and Tommy pulled doubles over the holidays for extra money. I'd done obligatory Christmas shopping for him, but saw no fun in it, as I realized something for the first time.

I was not in love with Tommy.

I shook my head then, wondering if this revelation was a Christmas gift to myself, for god knew that I hadn't even had a birthday party ever since Nicholas had left. Shaking the thought from my mind, I changed the course of my driving, arriving at the precinct where I'd watched the interrogation of Josh Fairfax, when I'd been pregnant with the boys. I didn't even know at this point in my life if I wanted other children or not but, based on how things were looking in my life right now, the answer would have been a resounding 'no'. I knew Tommy was frustrated that I seemingly hadn't gotten pregnant, in all the time we'd been together, for lack of a better word, and I knew that he would, internally, blame himself. Outwardly, however, he would say things about me having "three brats" with Nicholas and, therefore, I should be totally able to have at least one child with him.

I parked in the parking lot, briefly dragging my hands across my face before adjusting my scarf and hat before I got out of the car. There was black ice all over the surface of the parking lot, but thankfully my snow boots had grips, so I only slid around slightly as I approached the entrance of the building. Snow had begun to swirl around me as I went up the stairs and let myself inside, a blast of hot air from the heating system hitting me in the face as I made my way inside, and up to the receptionist's desk.

"Excuse me," I said politely as I stepped forward, "I'm looking for someone."

"Name?"

I blinked, hating the way this question was always phrased. "Theirs or mine?"

"Theirs."

"Sergeant Mason Crowe," I replied.

"And yours?"

"Murphy Gallagher," I said quietly.

The woman briefly raised her eyebrows at my surname, but decided not to question me any further about it, thankfully. "Sergeant Crowe is in this afternoon," she replied, "you're in luck, Miss Gallagher." She keyed in some numbers to her desk phone before she put it up to her ear and waited for an answer. "Sergeant, it's the desk downstairs. You've got a visitor. It's a Miss Murphy Gallagher. Okay. I'll let her know. Thanks. Bye." She lowered her phone back into its place and sighed. "He'll see you. He's got a new office, on the fifth floor, seventh room on your left. Have you got that?"

I nodded. "Got it."

"Good. Have a good day, Miss Gallagher."

"You, too... Betty," I say, quickly catching her name as I made my way over to the elevator, and pressed the required button.

I stepped inside the elevator as soon as it arrived, stepping inside and waiting for the doors to close, which seemed to take an eternity. When they finally did, a small ding erupted in my ears as I pressed button five, willing for the chrome box to, somehow, travel faster. Finally, the jolt of movement came, and I was pulled upwards to the correct floor, feeling immense relief when the doors finally dings open, ready and waiting for me to get out. I found myself hesitating there for a fraction of a second, almost unsure of what I was going to say to Mason. Finally, however, when the doors started to close, I rushed forward, getting out on the fifth floor and immediately turning left, where a door at the end of the hallway opened.

"Murphy," Mason said, exiting the office and coming to meet me halfway down the hallway. "I am surprised to see you."

I took his offered hand and shook it. "It's...been a while, Mason. Almost two months," I said, and forced a smile onto my face. "Is that your office?"

"Yes, of course. Come in," he said, putting out his arm for me to go on ahead and I did so, and stepped inside.

"Take a seat, make yourself comfortable," he said with a smile. "I was recently promoted to sergeant of the whole department—that's why I have this office," he went on, his tone almost nervous as he attempted to make small talk with me.

"It's very nice," I replied, taking note of the notion that it was a modern-style, corner office, with floor to ceiling windows on three out of four of the walls, and boasting impeccable views of the Chicago skyline, which would light up at night and look lovely.

"Can I get you anything?"

I blinked, turning to look at him. "I'm sorry. What?"

He smiled. "I've got a mini fridge back here with drinks, and an assistant who is at me beck and call, especially during mealtimes. Are you hungry?"

I shook my head. "I'm not hungry. But, if you have it, I'd love a bottle of water."

Mason smiled. "Cold?"

I laughed a little then. "Yeah," I replied. "Please."

He ducked back behind his desk then, retrieving two bottles, and handed one over to me, before he unscrewed the cap off his own and sipped it. "Murphy, I'm not going to lie here. It's not that I'm not glad to see you, it's just that..."

I sipped my water slowly, waiting for him to end his sentence before I spoke. However, when he just trailed off like that, I knew I had to offer an explanation. "You're right, I'm sorry," I said, and lowered the bottle, replacing the cap. "It's a little controversial..."

"Yeah?" Mason asked. "How so?"

"You know I'm with Tommy?"

"Yeah. Matthews," Mason said, his tone cutting, almost as if he wanted to make it abundantly clear from the get-go of his dislike for my fiancée. "I know."

I leaned forward then, wanting more than anything to finally say it out loud, because, once I did, it would finally be real. "He's abusive," I said, my voice very soft.

Mason's eyes widened then. "You serious?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Shit," Mason said, dragging a hand through his hair. "I had no idea."

"He hides it very well," I muttered. "To pretty much everyone—except for me and my family—he is charming. But, to us..." I sighed. "My twin brother has custody of my children now. I had to pretend to everyone that I just cared more about Tommy, but, for the love of god, they actually believed that. Now that they know—or, my twin, at least, has an idea—of what's been going on, they just think I'm in denial about the whole thing..."

"And are you?"

I raised my eyes to his. "What?"

"In denial? About the whole thing?"

I shook my head. "No. Absolutely not. I don't even love him."

"And yet, you're engaged to him..."

"I may have surrendered everything—or, nearly—but he doesn't have my love," I replied. "You know who I love, Mason, who I've always loved, who I've always wanted... That's why I'm doing all this."

Mason blinked. "Excuse me?"

I bit my lip then, not wanting to overstep, but also wanting to finish this, for, truth be told, I didn't know how much more of it I could take. "I know you know where he is, how he is, and what he's been doing," I said quietly. "You're his best friend, and you have connections that would've kept him safe..."

"Murphy, you do realize that I would be putting my entire career at stake..."

I nodded. "I know, but somebody already did when they made his juvenile record public," I said quietly, and Mason sighed. "I know you have an inkling about who it was, and I also know you know that I'd do anything for Nicholas..."

Mason looked up at me. "Would you?"

I smiled then, hating that tears spilled from my eyes. "I told him to run, evade authorities," I reply, knowing that I could be arrested for this, but no longer caring—prison would be a welcoming friend in comparison to the hell I'd been living in the last year and a half. "And even when I told him to run, he wouldn't go, unless we came with him. All of us."

"Wait—you and the kids?"

I sighed. "Yeah. I couldn't do that to them, I couldn't," I said, my voice trembling. "If we didn't have the kids, and it was just me, I wouldn't have given a damn. Sure, I would've missed my family like hell, but I would go to the ends of the earth for Nicholas—I mean that. But I had to make my kids my first priority, I just had to..."

"How did you do it?" he asked. "How did you get him to leave? I told him we'd get him out of here, no problem, but he originally refused... How did you get him to—"

"By lying," I replied. "Initially, I thought if he thought that something had really happened between Tommy and I—which it had, but it was all one-sided at that point, just kissing—I thought he would run. But, he got angry, and he lashed out. He hit me before he left, only because I told him to. I thought if it looked like a domestic dispute—which is what I told the authorities when they came knocking—they would leave me out of it. It worked, and because I didn't have any information on his whereabouts, they left us alone."

Mason sighed. "I wasn't aware of this..."

"Because I couldn't tell you, or anyone, for that matter," I replied. "My family has been on my case for the last eighteen months—bad-mouthing Nicholas and Tommy, and especially my behavior—but I kept my mouth shut. All to help Nicholas. I know you share my suspicions about who really did this, Mason, but, the fact is, we have to prove it, and I'm here to help."

Mason nodded. "Okay."

I raised my eyebrows. "Okay?"

"Yeah," he replied. "If anyone can handle this, it's you."

I smiled tightly then. "Nicholas told you about my past?"

"An abridged version," he said, and I smirked to myself, remembering when I'd told him what members of my family knew what version of my story. "I know you can handle it."

"Yeah?" I asked. "How?"

"Because we're going to put hidden security cameras in your house, record everything that happens, inside and out."

My cheeks heated. "Too bad I didn't let you start when we ran into each other," I replied, shuddering at the recollections of that night.

"He beats you, then, I take it?"

I nodded. "That. And worse."

"Christ, Murphy. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I need to play nice," I replied. "It's all for Nicholas."

"Okay," Mason said. "We'll send someone over to scout the area, get them all set-up within the next day or so. He ever bring cop buddies around?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Nobody's ever allowed to stay the night, but Tommy does love to bring his friends over. I, of course, have to make sure they have everything they need... It's been really hard to keep on my toes..."

"How so? With the abuse, you mean?"

"Because of that," I said softly. "Did Nicholas mention that I'm a recovering alcoholic?" I asked him, my voice quiet.

Mason shook his head. "No. I didn't know."

I smiled. "It's all right. Just makes this entire thing all the more difficult... My oldest brother is also an alcoholic, and our father, so it's a family thing..."

"Does Tommy let you see them? Your family?"

I sighed. "Not as much as I would like. We went for Thanksgiving, and there was a fight between him and my older brother, Ian. Tommy lied to the cops and said that Ian hit me when I got between them. I know it was Tommy. I know where the blow was, and I know where I was standing when it happened. I didn't have a concussion. Tommy is a fucking liar and abuser who gets off on beating women."

Mason shuddered. "Unfortunately, he's not the only one."

I shook my head. "No, he's not," I agreed.

"What will you need from me for your safety?"

I bit my lip. "Find a way to get Nicholas's signature..."

Mason blinked. "His signature?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"What for?" he asked.

I raised my eyes tearfully to his. "I need you to send him the copy of our divorce paperwork, so that he can sign them..."

"Murphy, you're not seriously going to marry Tommy, are you?"

I shrugged. "What choice do I have?"

"Murphy, Tommy will ultimately kill you if this goes on," Mason said realistically. "And besides, he'll never grant you a divorce. Even if he's in prison, he'll make you wait and wait and wait. And what if you and Nicholas want to get back together?"

I shook my head at him. "That won't happen."

Mason raised his eyebrows. "Why do you say that?"

I smiled. "Because there's no way in hell Nicholas would ever want me after this," I replied. "I understand that he's been wherever he is for a long time. If I've moved on, shouldn't he have been afforded that same pleasure?"

"You didn't move on, Murphy," Mason said quickly. "You were brainwashed and manipulated into a relationship. You've been beaten, raped, and had god knows what else done to you. But you're surviving, and I know that it's because you love Nicholas that you even allowed it to get this far. But I won't let Tommy force you to marry him, Murphy. I promise, we'll find a way to settle this before he makes you."

I shook my head. "I don't know if you can..."

"Have you set a date?"

I sighed. "He has."

"Of course," Mason muttered. "When?"

"June, sometime," I reply, shrugging. "So, we're halfway there, at least..."

"This'll be over and done with by then, Murphy," Mason said gently, getting to his feet, and I instantly moved to copy him. He walked me over to the door and placed a hand on my shoulder as I moved to open it. "Wait for my phone call."

I blinked. "Phone call?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'll call you at Patsy's. Wouldn't want Tommy to get suspicious."

I shook my head. "No, we wouldn't," I agreed.

"I'll arrange for the paperwork to be given to you, don't worry," Mason said. "I'll let you know the time and the place. You won't have anything to worry about. And if Tommy asks where you got them, you can tell him that you had a connection. If he presses further, send him to me. He hates me as much as I hate him, but trust me, he won't cross me."

I sighed. "If you're sure..."

He squeezed my shoulder gently, and I forced myself not to wince. "I'm sure," he replied as I stepped out of his office. "We're gonna fix this, Murphy."

I sighed, walking towards the elevator before I turned around slightly. "I just hope you're right about this," I reply. "Oh, Mason?"

"Yeah?" he asked, turning around, before going into his office.

"Don't tell Nicholas," I said quietly.

Mason blinked. "Sorry?"

"Don't tell him—of my involvement, or of what Tommy's been...you know."

Mason sighed. "I think he'd want to know, Murphy."

I shook my head, stepping towards the elevator as it arrived. "Well, I don't," I said firmly to him, raising my hand to his as the doors shut.

. . .

I had been waiting a week for Mason to get back to me; I knew that cops worked quickly, and he had given me a short call a couple of days after our meeting, to inform me that the cameras had been set-up. I told Mason that I anticipated Tommy beating me again, as well as assaulting me, but I had his word that no arrest would be made until or unless we got dirt on whether or not he had anything to do with Nicholas's former record being brought to light. Finally, a week had passed and there was still nothing new to report, and I was getting scared that, perhaps, Mason couldn't obtain a signature from Nicholas, or that Nicholas had flat-out refused...

The phone rang the afternoon of my seventh day of waiting, and my heart leapt as I picked it up and placed it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Murphy, it's Mason."

"Hi," I replied.

"You alone?"

"I'm alone," I confirmed.

"Talked to a buddy of mine—Tommy got the late double-shift tonight," Mason said quietly into the phone. "The meeting place is going to be Hugo and Allie's firm, tonight at six."

A lump rose in my throat. "But..."

"Don't worry—had another buddy of mine spray for termites in all the rooms, so the staff had a half-day today," he replied. "Nobody will be there, trust me."

"Is it safe?" I asked.

"It's fool-proof," Mason assured me. "Be there tonight at six. The drop-off should be happening in your old office, as a matter-of-fact."

I sighed, nodding. "Okay, Mason," I replied. "And Tommy...?"

"Won't be home until after nine, trust me," he said gently. "You go there and collect the papers and then get home to that son of a bitch."

I chuckled. "Okay," I said again. "Thank you."

"No problem, kid," he said affectionately. "Talk soon."

"Right. Goodbye," I replied, hanging up the phone.

I checked my clock, seeing that it was close to four, and felt relieved that I wouldn't have to wait around forever to get this finished. I hoped it would just be someone I didn't know; someone without a face to a name that I could just thank and take the papers from, before going on my way and forgetting about this whole thing. I wanted this portion of my life to be over, and I'd finally set the ball in motion to do all that.

I left the diner at five-thirty, managing to dodge after-work traffic as best I could, arriving at the firm a good five minutes ahead of schedule. I pulled into the lot, which had been tapped to let me inside without paying or receiving a ticket, and Mason had told me that the security cameras would be altered later to protect the fact that I'd been there. I got out of my car and locked it up, crossing the parking lot and pressing the elevator button, my heart hammering slightly in my chest as I waited for it to collect me. I stepped inside when it arrived, pressing my old floor button and felt relieved when the doors closed, and got out again on the other side.

I walked carefully through the lobby and towards the assistant desks, smiling to myself when I saw that Rachel now had the plum position as head assistant. Walking in between the desks and into the hallway, I passed Allie's assistant's office, Allie's office, and finally came to a stop before the office that had been mine. I ran my fingers over the cherry wood paneling of the door, hesitating for a moment before I turned the knob, finding it unlocked. The office was empty, leading me to believe that whomever was meeting me was going to be slightly late, but I didn't mind. I was surprised to find that the office itself seemed vacant—in fact, it looked the same as when I'd left it, leaving me to wonder if Allie and Hugo had found a replacement for me, or if they simply hadn't had room in the budget to demolish the office yet.

I nibbled at my lip, flicking on the light before I crossed the office and towards the windows, which still had the beautiful view of the city. Each skyscraper had its lights on, and I smiled at how beautiful it looked. I remembered the countless occasions of me just staring out my window, when I should've been getting work done, and how pleased I was to come this far away from my humble and torturous beginnings. I remembered almost reaching for the orbs of light, once upon a time, and wondered just how many of them there were. I smiled to myself then, knowing that, while my life hadn't exactly gone as planned, I knew that I still had a chance to make up for it, for all the mistakes I'd made, the people I'd hurt, and, perhaps, I'd be good again.

The knob of the door turned slightly then, and I found myself looking towards it, wondering who would ultimately be on the other side. My eyes widened automatically when I saw who it was, and the hammering sound erupted from my chest then, threatening to burst forth. My mouth fell open then at who my eyes greeted, and while I never thought this would happen, I found that not much could surprise me much anymore...

. . .

 _It is then that there's a knock upon Allie's main office door and Allie turns toward the sound. "Come in," she calls._

 _A six-feet-four drink of water opens the door and enters the room, looking like the perfect blend of Hugo and Allie, and yet looked like one of those people that belonged in a Gucci suit ad, or a Jaguar commercial. His black hair is slicked back becomingly, and his pale skin is to die for; he had a closely-cut beard upon his face, and as he approached his mother, his dark blue eyes looked saddened, likely because of his sister, Charlotte. He took his mother's hands in his and kissed her cheek, before putting a loving arm around her shoulders._

" _Mother, I'm so sorry. I got here as quickly as I could."_

" _Thank you, Nicholas, for hurrying," she replied, patting his cheek. "Well, I've left everything you will need for the meeting this afternoon in your father's office. Oh, and before I forget," she went on, breaking away from Nicholas and coming around to her desk, where she grabbed my hand and quickly pulled me after her, "this is Scarlett Davies."_

" _The transplant from Seattle?" he asked._

" _I suppose one could say that, yes," I replied steadily, putting out my hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Nicholas."_

" _Likewise, Scarlett," he replied, giving me a cursory glance up and down before lightly shaking my hand and turning back to his mother. "I'll go to Father's office now, let him know I'm here, and then he can show me the files."_

" _Wonderful, darling," Allie replied, kissing Nicholas on the cheek before he left the room, without so much as a backward glance at me._

. . .

"Nicholas," I breathed then, the air finally escaping from my lungs after I'd finally permitted myself to speak.

Promptly, Nicholas shut the door behind him, looking as shocked as I felt. "Murph... Mason didn't say it would be you... He said someone would..."

I smiled then, a small laugh escaping from my throat. "Yeah, he pretty much told me the same exact thing a couple of hours ago." I shrugged. "Guess he wanted us in the same room together or something..."

"Real funny joke, Murphy, really," he muttered then, and slammed down the papers on what used to be my desk, and I shrunk back at the sudden noise. "I signed the damned papers. Is there anything else?"

My heart hammered in my throat once more, and I stood there, gazing at him then. His hair was longer, and the stubble he usually worked with on his face was dark and slightly thicker, but one could still see his to-die-for pale skin beneath. _Oh, there was plenty else_ , I thought to myself as I stood there, rendered speechless, merely staring at him for a moment.

"I don't know," I said quietly, speaking at last. "How about you?"

Nicholas's eyebrows knitted together. "What?"

I felt myself biting down, hard, onto my lower lip then, forcing my knees not to tremble, as I refused to take my eyes from his. "What do you think?" I asked him, softly.

Nicholas sighed, obviously fighting with himself—with his baser instincts, as it were—but it was a losing battle for him. "Goddammit," he whispered, stalking towards me then and taking my face in his large hands, staring down at me. "What have you done to me, Murphy?"

I blinked. "What do you mean?" I whispered.

"I never thought I'd want..." He cut himself off then, dragging his thumb against my bottom lip, effectively freeing it from my teeth gripping it, as he stared down at me. He shuddered against me then, turning me around and slamming me into the wall, ripping down my jeans and making no moves for any false starts, and I felt my heart hammering all over again when I heard him unzipping his own pair of jeans, and gasped aloud when he brought himself against me, and his hot breath against my neck. "You're a fucking minx, Murph. Do you know that?"

I wanted this; I wanted him so much. And, after the hell I'd put him through, I wanted—no, needed—him to punish me. Peeking around my shoulder at him, I whispered, "I know that fact very well...Nick."

His breath hitched in his throat then, as he released me slightly from his hold on me, his hand diving beneath my sweater and onto my breasts. He chuckled as I groaned, bracing myself halfway on the wall, and halfway against his lean and muscular frame as he forced himself not to enter me so quickly and slowly, sweetly, squeezed my nipples. "Do you like that?" he whispered, his hot breath sending goosebumps onto ever inch of my skin. "Do you like that, Murphy? Tell me you like that..."

"I don't," I whispered, my voice raw with wanting. "I fucking love it," I said, moaning aloud again as he squeezed my breasts then, tighter, tighter... "More," I said, my voice raw with need as I arched up against him.

"More what?" he whispered, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Tell me, Murphy. Now."

"Hard," I said, like I'd whispered to him so long ago. "Deep... Hard and deep...inside me. I need you, Nicholas...please..."

Suddenly, Nicholas slammed himself into me then, gripping onto my breasts as he fucked me, hard and deep, as he'd only done when we weren't anything more to one another than allies within the courtroom. I felt myself moaning, wanting more than anything for him to hold me and tell me how much he missed me, but I knew he wouldn't. After everything that had happened to the both of us in the nearly two years he had been gone, it was unlikely that he would ever want to be loving and compassionate with me again. But I wanted, needed him now, like I hadn't wanted or needed anyone or anything for my entire life. And if this is what it took—this, rough fucking—for him to be close to me, then I would take it. I would take anything and everything that Nicholas gave me—whether it would be love or hatred—because I deserved everything he intended to give to me.

"Dammit," Nicholas said, releasing into me.

I tried to grab at the wall, but there was nothing—nothing, but for Nicholas's arms firmly holding me upright as my knees suddenly weakened. "Fuck," I moaned. I felt him pull himself away from me then, and I did my best to pull up my jeans and make myself presentable before I turned back to face him. "Man... That was..."

Nicholas shrugged. "Yeah," he replied, his tone noncommittal.

I sighed, stepping closer to him. "Is that all you have to say?"

He shrugged a second time, fixing his clothes. "Does it matter?"

"It does to me," I said, my voice breaking slightly.

Nicholas laughed bitterly. "Oh, please. I doubt that."

I shook my head then, shocked at his attitude. "I thought..."

"Don't," he said, his voice firm. "I brought what I came here to give," he went on, nodding at the paperwork on the desk. "The rest..."

"The rest didn't mean anything to you?" I ask him, hating at how bitter I sounded. This wasn't me, letting out my feelings like this, it wasn't...

Nicholas's dark eyes snapped to mine. "Was it supposed to?"

I clamped my mouth shut then, unwilling to show further weakness in front of him. Per my instructions, he'd held up his end of the bargain, risked life and limb to come back here, and likely fucked things up forever between us—mutually, of course—by fucking me... "No," I said, lying through my teeth, doing my best to make my voice unemotional. "Of course it wasn't supposed to matter. It sure as shit didn't to me, either."

Nicholas nodded stiffly. "So we're on the same page."

I nodded back. "So it would seem."

"Great," he said, his tone flat as he crossed the room and opened the door. "Have a nice life, Murph. Really. I mean that."

"Yeah," I replied, already aching for him, now that he was going. If I had been braver, I would have shouted at him, telling him that he meant everything to me, that of course it mattered to me, what Tommy had been putting me through... "You, too, Nicholas."

He shut the door behind me then, the sound slightly echoing in my former office.

Slowly, I trudged over to the papers, running my finger over his signature. I did my best not to lose it, but failed miserably as I traced the lettering. "I love you," I whispered to his name, "and happy anniversary," I said quietly, finding that I wanted more than anything to say all it to him and more, one last time.

. . .

When I pulled up to the house a little before seven, my heart lurched in my throat when I saw that Tommy's car was already there. "Shit," I whispered to myself, quickly getting out of my car and slamming the door. I dashed onto the sidewalk, locking my car automatically and running through the gate and up the stairs, letting myself in and feeling my heart thundering in my chest when I saw Tommy, watching T.V., many empty beer bottles scattered around him, and an empty T.V. dinner carton close by.

"Where you been?"

I felt even more scared then, though his voice was eerily calm. "Had to meet a friend," I said, and tried and failed to sound convincing.

Tommy slowly got to his feet, switching off the T.V. and staring at me. "A friend?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

Tommy narrowed his eyes then, finishing his beer bottle with one final swig as he came over and stood beside me, looking enraged just one moment later as he stepped closer. "You smell like someone fucked you," he said, revulsion filling his tone.

I felt my cheeks heat then. "Tommy, no..."

"Who was it?" he demanded then, grabbing me and yanking me the rest of the way towards him without mercy. "Who the fuck was it?!"

I shook my head. "Nobody! Nobody, I promise!"

Tommy shook his head. "You're lying to me," he said, letting me go and hitting me squarely in the face, and I cried out. "Shut up!" he shouted, hitting me again.

I fell to my knees then, my cheeks stinging, but this only infuriated Tommy further. "Please," I begged him. "Please, stop..."

Tommy delivered several hard kicks to my stomach, abdomen, and back over the course of several minutes, and despite my pleas for him to stop, he refused to let up. Finally, he grabbed me by the arm, smashing the beer bottle he held, and glared at me. "This is what you do to me when you lie to me," he growled, and promptly took the shattered glass of the beer bottle and slashed it over and over again along my left wrist, where my family tree tattoo was. "There, now I've cut them out of your life for good."

"Tommy!" I screamed, my hand trembling then as the red blood oozed over the black ink of the names of my siblings. "Tommy, please..."

"And your fucking precious Nicholas..."

"No!" I screamed, sustaining cuts to my hands as he attempted to slice around my breasts to get at my husband's name. "Tommy, don't!"

"Fuck you, you fucking bitch!" he yelled, making a grab for another beer bottle.

"Tommy!" I yelled. "Tommy, please—"

My words were cut off then, when he raised the bottle, slamming it down, hard, onto the top of my head, and blackness greeted my vision.

. . .

As soon as Tommy had left for work the next morning, I still felt the aches and pains from his attack, and knew that I shouldn't be driving, but I had no choice. I didn't want a fucking ambulance brought to the house, so I knew my only other option was to walk to the hospital or to drive myself. Taking a risk, I drove to the hospital as quickly as I could, my vision fuzzy, and hoping to god that Tommy hadn't caused any permanent damage to me. I couldn't grip the steering wheel very well with both hands, which was a cause for concern, but, as I'd told everyone, I wasn't a medical person, I wouldn't know much until I had a qualified doctor assess me properly.

I parked in the lot of the emergency room, walking in and trying not to stumble as my vision continued to be blurry. I did my best not to scream at the constant pain I felt from Tommy's most recent attack, as I trudged towards the receptionist. "I need help," I said quietly, gripping onto the side of the desk to prevent myself from falling over.

The woman looked up and appeared shocked at my appearance. "Can someone bring me a wheelchair, please?" she asked.

I managed to sit down in the wheelchair, turning to the orderly who asked for my name and opened my mouth. "M... M-Murphy Gallagher," I replied.

"Do you have anyone we can call for you?"

I shook my head. "No," I replied.

I was admitted to a room, where the nurse arrived and helped me change into a hospital gown, and then I was immediately checked over. An MRI was ordered when I told them the story I'd made up, that I'd been mugged, and that the guy had hit me in the head. I also showed off my wrist, and the doctors believed that I would have nerve damage, and I knew that the chances of me potentially not being able to write again were officially on the table. I was exhausted, so they permitted me to sleep through the procedure, and then I was taken back to my room.

I woke up then, relieved that I'd texted Sierra to take over for me that day at the diner, and shakily dug into my jeans pocket for my phone. I stared at it for a moment, watching as morning turned into afternoon, and knew that the doctors would be in to check on me at any moment. I had to tell someone else—someone in my family—about what had been going on with Tommy, and the logical person was, of course, Ian. Hands shaking, I forced myself to dial his number before I lost courage again, and listened to the rings.

 _Hey_ , _you_ ' _ve reached Ian_. _Leave a message_.

I felt a dull thud fall through me then as the notion of him not answering. This was it; he wasn't going to put up with my bullshit anymore, and I knew I deserved that. I lowered my eyes to my phone then, surprised when I got another call and, my eyes widening, quickly swiped on the green phone icon to accept the call.

"Fi?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Murph," she said, and sounded relieved that I'd picked up. "How are you?"

I sighed. "Can't complain."

"Okay," she replied, not sounding as if she should believe me or not.

"What's up?" I asked. "How are you?"

"Fine," she said.

I nodded. "Good."

"Listen, Murph, um... Jimmy and I want to invite you to New York for a week or so next month for New Year's. You interested?"

I blinked, surprised. "Uh, yeah, sure," I said, not even going to ask Tommy. Since I'd lied and said I'd been mugged, perhaps he would let me have this trip in exchange. "I'll book the ticket now and take some time off work. I'll see you in a couple days, Fi."

"Sounds great," she said. "Um... Murph?"

"Yeah?" I replied.

"Sure you're okay?"

"Fi, come on, of course I'm—"

"Well, I know you're alive," she said quietly. "You picked up the phone..."

I sighed. "Yeah, well... I'm hanging in there, I guess, one could say..."

"At Patsy's now?" she asked.

"Yep," I lied. "Just in the office, working through the filing system..."

"It can be a bitch," she said quietly.

I laughed a little then. "Yeah..."

"Promise me, Murphy."

I blinked. "Promise you... What?"

"That's you're okay."

"I told you, I'm—"

"No, Murph, please. Just...promise..."

I hesitated for a moment, biting my lip, not wanting to continue to lie to her—I needed my older sister, but I just didn't know how to communicate that to her. "You'll see for yourself in a few days!" I said, more brightly than I felt, before cutting my phone call.

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Make It Or Break It

Chapter Six: Make It Or Break It

Tommy was unusually kinder to me as the days went by, and I knew I had to play my cards right in order to not arise suspicion when I told him about my upcoming trip to New York. I made some casseroles for him to reheat in the days that I would be away, and I worked double-time to ensure that the house would be clean in my absence. I bought all his favorite snacks, and made sure that he had plenty of things around there to amuse himself with. When the day before my trip arrived, I made Tommy his favorite breakfast; once I'd cleaned up and Tommy was in the middle of the meal, I came across the kitchen and sat next to him, waiting for an opportune time to speak with him.

"Everything okay, Murphy?" Tommy asked, not looking up.

I nodded. "Yeah, fine," I assured him. "Listen, I got a call from Fiona the other day. Apparently, Jimmy's busy schedule is keeping him away from the home a lot, and she asked if I wouldn't mind coming to see her for a few days."

Tommy looked up. "In New York?"

I nodded again. "Yeah. Given how she left things with everyone else here, she doesn't feel comfortable coming over here."

Tommy's expression then was one of understanding. "I guess that makes sense."

"There's casseroles in the fridge for you, and I bought all your favorite snacks," I said, wanting to make my case quickly. "There's plenty for you to do to amuse yourself around here, and I've cleaned the house. Would you mind if I went for a few days?"

"How long are we talking about?"

I pursed my lips, recalling my itinerary quickly. "Four days," I replied.

Tommy didn't look terribly perturbed about that fact, and, at long last, he nodded. "I suppose I can do without you for that time. I have a few doubles coming up anyhow, so it looks like I'll be all right."

I smiled. "Thank you, Tommy," I said, the gratitude apparent in my tone. "Don't worry—I'll be safe and always think of you. Want me to bring you back anything?"

Tommy shook his head. "No, I'll be all right."

I grinned. "Great. I'm going into the diner for a few hours this afternoon to settle things—I'm leaving Sierra in charge of everything. Then I'm going to come home and pack and get everything together. I leave really early tomorrow morning."

Tommy smiled a little then. "Sounds like you have quite a few things to take care of."

I let out a short laugh. "Yeah, I guess I do," I said, getting to my feet and moving to head out of the house to get things done.

"Murphy."

I felt every hair on my body stand at attention at I turned around, slowly. "Yeah?" I asked, and found that I was very close to stammering.

"You forgot to kiss me goodbye," Tommy replied, power radiating his tone.

I fixed a smile onto my face, despite the bile rising in my throat. "Oh, yeah. Of course," I said, and stepped forward, kissing him on the cheek.

"No, Murphy," Tommy said, his voice slightly impatient as he looked up at me. "When I say kiss me goodbye, I expect a kiss goodbye."

The disgust that filled me then was off the charts, but I knew that I had to play the part appropriately, just for a little longer, in order to make all this work. "Right," I said, shaking my head and bending down. "Silly me."

Growing more impatient by the second, Tommy yanked me down so that my lips met his, forcing his tongue through my lips and down my throat, while I merely stood above him, letting it happen. It took all my power not to shove him off me and to say the secret word for the cameras, letting Mason and everyone else know that I was done. However, Tommy was only guilty of domestic violence at this point, and they authorities had nothing on any form of connection to Nicholas. My heart grew heavy then as Tommy released my lips, pushing me away from him then, while I did my best to smile at him.

"Go about your day, then," Tommy said, finished with me, for now.

. . .

It was still dark when the Uber arrived for me the following morning to bring me to the airport, on my little jet to freedom. I'd kissed Tommy goodbye while he was still half-asleep, but had sent him a text message, reminding him that I'd be back in four days, and to look at the carefully written instructions I'd left for him on the casseroles. I pulled my roller suitcase behind me as I walked towards the car, and its driver popped open the trunk, allowing me to store it there. I slammed the door shut, peeking over at the house across the street, seeing no activity through its windows so early in the day. Shaking my head, I got into the Uber, reiterating my destination of choice—O'Hare Airport.

I was relieved when the driver didn't attempt to make small-talk with me so early in the morning, and paid him handsomely for that factor alone. Gripping my small, carry-on bag close to my stomach, I was pleased when we finally arrived at the airport a little over a half-hour later. I thanked the driver minutely and retrieved my suitcase myself, getting into the correct entrance and walking up to the kiosk, boarding pass in hand. I gave over all the correct paperwork and paid for them to take my suitcase into custody, before I made my way over to the TSA section of the airport. It was a quick process—due to it being so early in the day—and all the authorities soon waved me through, all my belongings intact.

I bought a Starbucks to keep me awake, not wanting to sleep during the two-and-a-half-hour flight and just wanting the opportunity to gather my thoughts. I made it to my gate, where boarding was due to begin in half an hour, and perched on a chair, drink in my hand, and carry-on bag in my lap. I looked outside, the sun just beginning to rise beyond the airport, and remembered how Mickey had mentioned that Ian had loved sunrises. My eyes filled with tears at the notion, knowing that Ian and I were officially in the same boat—due to circumstances, we could not be with the loves of our lives.

The thought cascaded through me then like wildfire, and I knew then that, as soon as I managed to clear Nicholas's name completely, and after I explained myself to my family, that I had one more mission to complete. I had to find Mickey and represent him in court and somehow, some way, manage to get all his charges dropped. Perhaps if I were to get him to plead extreme emotional distress, the judge themselves could see reason and Mickey could come home to Ian once again. I knew that it was what my twin wanted more than anything, and I knew that it would prove to be a wonderful swan song to my law career. I never wanted to set food in a courtroom again—such a practice was littered with disillusionment for me, ever since my own arrest at Trevor's hands—but I knew, deep down, that I owed this to Ian. After everything, I knew that bringing Mickey home was the one thing I could do.

When the boarding call came for first-class passengers, I got immediately to my feet, making my way over to the line of people that had gathered to get on the plane. Rolling my shoulders, I showed off my boarding pass to the flight attendant before I was permitted into the tunnel and onto the plane itself. I found my window seat without issue, sitting in it and shoving my carry-on bag beneath the seat. Straightening up, I grabbed my seatbelt and clipped it around me; I pulled on the string to make it tight around my waist, and my heart proceeded to thunder in my ears when I fully realized how far I was able to pull it. There was so much room in this first-class seat as well; it was in that moment that I realized how much Tommy's influence had taken a toll on my physical well-being. Other than bruising me whenever he thought an infraction had been committed, I was rapidly losing weight, due to stress over completing the mission—as well as day-to-day living—and I knew that I couldn't be much over a hundred pounds at this point, which, I knew, was very unhealthy.

Once takeoff had commenced, I drank water and merely picked at the pretzel mix given to me, not wanting to get sick in the high altitude. I shut my eyes every so often, wondering what New York would bring for me. I knew full well that Fiona was apt to ask me about my appearance and, as my sister, she would likely see me more than once without much clothing on. Even though we'd been close since we'd first met, we'd had our differences as well, and even though I loved Fiona very much, I knew that, since she'd gone, I had become closer to Lip, due to our mutual alcoholism. That relationship had hit the bricks, however, just as mine with Ian, Debbie, Liam, and even Carl had fizzled out. While I was still permitted the occasional AA meeting by Tommy, I'd had to find one in a separate location from Lip's, as too much socialization with my own family was considered taboo by him.

I realized then as we continued flying closer and closer to the East Coast that this was only my third time on a plane. Ever since we'd gotten together—for a lack of a better term—Tommy's parents had always come to visit us from Palm Springs, which meant that a plane trip to see them was unnecessary. Tommy's grandparents, on both sides, were deceased, and he had no siblings to speak of, so there were no trips there either. As for close friends, all of them were on the force with him, so they lived locally, and so trips with Tommy on a flight had never happened. I didn't think Tommy would be able to handle a plane trip on a whole, for his need to abuse me would be off the charts—as we were in public, and one false word and I was dead—as he liked delivering punishment to me quickly.

My thoughts spiraled to the point where I was never want to think about another topic, and, all too soon, the pilot informed us that we were beginning our decent into LaGuardia Airport. I had informed Fiona already of my flight number, so she was likely to already know that we would be at the airport shortly. Once we landed, I got to my feet as quickly as possible, retrieving my bag from beneath the seat, and making my way out to follow the other passengers. I followed the signs to baggage claim, retrieving my suitcase and making my way over towards the exit, where I knew that Fiona would be waiting for me.

My heart hammered in my chest as I looked through the crowd, seeing Fiona's dark head almost towering over most of the people around us. There was a height difference of nearly four inches between the two of us, so I would constantly have to stand on my toes whenever we did end up hugging one another. I stood there for a moment, merely watching her dark eyes flit through the crowd in an attempt to see me, and, once they caught sight of me, they widened. Likely shocked by my change in appearance—for it had been over two years since we'd last seen each other, and so much had happened since then—Fiona immediately shook her head, unknowing all that had gone on, and looked quite frightened to see me like this.

I stepped forward then, dragging my suitcase being me, until I was just in front of her. I forced a smile onto my lips then, the skin upon them cracked from constant biting to stave off the pain from Tommy's beatings, and yet crossed my fingers that they wouldn't bleed. "Hey, Fi," I said, and, for the life of me, I couldn't manage to conjure up a positive tone of voice.

"Murph?" Fiona asked, gazing from the deep purple marks beneath my eyes, to my cracked lips, to my thin frame, and to the bulky clothes I was wearing. "Holy shit... What's been going on with you?" she whispered.

I let out a short laugh then and shook my head. "Not why I came here, Fi, and you know it," I said with a smile. "So, shall we?"

Fiona jerked slightly with a nod, leading me outside. "Taxi!" she called, whistling for one.

I stood on the curb beside Fiona, waiting for a yellow cab to drive up and when it did, I put my suitcase into the trunk without being asked and climbed in after I motioned for Fiona to slide across ahead of me. I leaned back against the seat, still gripping onto my carry-on bag as Fiona gave the cabbie hers and Jimmy's penthouse address. I was pleased at the rugged look of the cab—brown leather interior, reeking of cigarette smoke—and found that it slightly reminded me of the South Side.

"How was your flight?"

I turned and looked over at Fiona, her dark eyes surveying my entire body, almost as if she wanted to yank off my sweatshirt and scrutinize it further. "Fine," I replied.

Fiona sighed, obviously wanting to know more, but it quickly became apparent that she wasn't going to push me in front of the cabbie. "Jimmy's really looking forward to seeing you," she told me, forcing a smile onto her face.

I smiled. "Really?"

"Sure—he's your brother-in-law, after all," she said, leaning back against her side of the back seat of the cabbie, her phone in her lap, and I saw quickly that she was texting him, likely informing him that we were heading into the city now. "He's taken a couple days off so that the two of you can get closer."

I sighed, rolling my shoulders. "His dad still works at the hospital, doesn't he?"

Fiona immediately paled. "What?" she asked, her eyes snapping to mine.

"Jesus," I muttered under my breath, bringing my head into my hands and rubbing my temples, suddenly growing frustrated.

"Murph, please," Fiona said, reaching out and putting her hand on my shoulder, but immediately withdrew it when I twitched at the affection. "You're fighting with everyone who've only been trying to help you..."

I shook my head, raising my eyes and staring out the window. "Whatever," I muttered. "Can we not talk about this now, please?"

Fiona sighed. "Okay. Maybe later," she said quietly.

We drove the rest of the journey in silence, which I noticed was quite difficult for Fiona, since we had another thirty-five minutes or so to go on the drive. When we pulled up outside their building, Fiona moved to pay the driver, refusing to allow me to do so myself. I got out of my side of the cab then, retrieving my suitcase quickly and waiting for her on the sidewalk. When we approached the building, Fiona introduced me to the doorman, Terrance, who seemed altogether pleased to meet me, before we were allowed inside.

"Top two floors are the penthouses," Fiona explained as we made our way past the front desk and over towards the elevators. "Ours is on the twenty-ninth floor."

I raised my eyebrows. "Hell of a climb down via the stairs," I muttered.

Fiona smiled a little then. "Yeah, that's true."

When the elevator arrived, we stepped inside, and I found that the cushioning of the carpet was a comfort to my ankles, which were always hard from standing so often during the day. We rode it up to the proper floor, where Fiona explained that Jimmy would be home before dinner, and that they'd decided to treat me to one out to celebrate my arrival. I merely smiled and nodded at the invitation, and when we arrived on the proper floor, Fiona led the way down the hallway and towards a door, which she unlocked, and moved aside so that I could walk in first. I thanked her and stepped inside, admiring the floor-to-ceiling windows, balcony terrace, lovely living room, and modern kitchen which readily greeted the eye.

"Holy shit," I muttered in awe.

Fiona laughed a little then, shutting and locking the door behind her. "Yeah, I pretty much said the same thing when Jimmy first showed it to me," she replied. "Come on upstairs, then—the guest suite has been prepared for you."

I did my best to smile as I followed her towards the stairs. We went up two flights, with a landing in between, and when we arrived at the upper floor, Fiona went to the third door along the hallway and opened it, revealing a decent-sized bedroom, with floor-to-ceiling windows, a walk-in closet, and en-suite bathroom. I rolled my suitcase to the edge of the bed, and set my carry-on bag on top of the bedspread, before I turned around and looked at Fiona. I hesitated for a moment, not really knowing what to say; there were so many unspoken things between her and me, as well as the rest of my family, and I wasn't about to jeopardize anything, for I knew it could go one of three ways—they would try to talk me out of it, go to the authorities themselves, or they would see to it that Tommy would never lay a hand on me again.

"Thanks," I said, perching on the edge of my bed, "for having me, Fi. I know I haven't really been the best sister lately. And suffice it to say my communication skills have been in the toilet but I'm hoping to change that soon."

"Soon?" Fiona asked, crossing the room and sitting next to me, and a lump rose in my throat, knowing full well that she would attempt to drag something out of me. "I don't want to hear about 'soon', Murph. I want to know what's going on."

I scoffed. "Why does everyone care so goddamn much?"

"If you mean me and the rest of the family, Murph, it's because we fucking care about you—we love you," she said, putting an arm around my shoulders, and looking concerned when I visibly stiffened before I could call it back. "I know they're all freaking out in their own ways—Lip says you don't do AA with him anymore; Ian says that he had to take away your house key and that you hardly make time for the kids; Debbie says that you tried to give her money from Patsy's safe for some reason; and Liam says you finally told him about Dr. Normal. What's really going on here, Murph? I'm worried as hell..."

"They don't trust me," I whispered, my voice quiet.

Fiona inclined her head. "They don't trust you?"

I shook my head. "No. They don't."

"It's not that they don't trust you, Murph," Fiona said gently. "It's just that they have these thoughts about what's been happening and they think that there's something wrong."

Immediately, I shook my head; I had to stick with the plan. "No, no. Nothing's wrong," I said quickly, but, for the life of me, I couldn't sound convincing.

"Then why the fuck did Jimmy's dad hear about you in the hospital?" Fiona demanded then, her big sister voice back and in full-throttle.

I got up from the bed then, crossing my arms and wrapping them around my small frame, and made my way over to one of the windows, staring out at the city below. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said through my teeth.

Fiona got up behind me, and, in the reflective surface of the window, I could see her reaching out to me, but I deliberately side-stepped her attempts to do so. "Murph, I just want to understand what's been going on with you," she said gently, and I shut my eyes, hot tears escaping from them and flowing down my cheeks. "Jimmy's dad heard that you were fucking beaten to a bloody pulp, but that the blood seemed to be old—like it happened in the past. Plus there was the excessive bruising on your skin, and it looked like someone had taken a fucking bottle to your head. And then there was the slashing on your left wrist—"

"Stop it!" I cried out then, my voice nearly breaking, as I reached upwards and covered my ears to her words. "Don't talk about it, Fi! Please!" I begged.

Fiona reached out then and took me by the shoulders, turning me around and taking my hands off from my ears. She stared down at me then, only to find that I was shaking in her grip, and as her hands gently pressed into me, she let out a horrified gasp then. "I can feel your bones everywhere, Murphy," she whispered, pressing all around my back and shoulder. "Jesus. The sweatshirt is trying to hide it, but..."

I shrugged her off then, stepping away from her. "But what?" I snapped, dashing the tears from my eyes and closing myself off to her, crossing my arms again. "What? What are you going to say about my appearance now?!"

The horrified expression didn't leave my sister's face. "How much weight have you lost?"

I shrugged, dragging my hands through my hair, which had just begun to thin that autumn due to the constant stress I'd been under. "Doesn't fucking matter," I said through my teeth. "It's not like I've stopped eating..."

"No, but you're not eating well—or a lot, it looks like," Fiona replied, crossing your arms. "And whenever I reach out to you, you flinch, or when I touch you, you shudder, like you think I'm going to hurt you. Why are you acting this way?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to talk about this, Fiona."

"You don't have a choice!" Fiona snapped then, taking me by the shoulders and holding me there as she searched my face for answers. "Please, Murphy. I need you to tell me what's been going on. We all want to help you—"

"You can't fucking help me!" I shouted then, yanking myself away from her for what must've been the umpteenth time. "I don't need your help, Fi! I'm fine!"

"You're obviously not fine! Look at you!" she said, her voice trembling then. "You're way too thin, you're losing your hair, you act like I'm sticking needles into your skin whenever I fucking try to touch you, you shrink back whenever I want to touch you, and you're actively avoiding the subject whenever I want to ask you what the fuck's been going on! You're obviously not fine here, Murph, and I want to know why!"

I scoffed looking away from her. "Yeah, you would like to know why, wouldn't you?" I muttered then, the fire leaving my tone as I leaned up against the wall, opposite from my bed. "I can't give you want you want here, Fi..."

"Why?" she whispered, and my eyes locked back to hers again. "Why can't you just tell me what's been going on? We're all fucking scared for you..."

I shook my head. "Don't be. I'm fine."

"Murph..."

"No," I said, shaking my head at her, my voice trembling, knowing full well that if there was anyone in my family that could get it out of me, it would've been her, Ian, or Lip. "I can't tell you, Fi. I can't tell you this. Please... Don't make me..."

"Can you tell me why, at least?" Fiona asked, stepping closer to me, slowly this time, almost as if I was some kind of caged animal. "Tell me why I can't know."

I bit down hard on my lip then; I could taste blood seeping out of its cracks, and knew how much of a wreck I must've looked. "You need to stay safe," I whispered, my voice shaking. "So help me, Fiona, if you knew what was really going on, I'm afraid that..."

"That what?"

"That everything would be...I don't know...totally fucked," I replied. "Trust me, things are being set in motion to fix shit, but I can't tell you, I can't," I said, locking my eyes with hers. "Can you just trust me that I'm dealing with it? Please, tell me you trust me..."

Fiona hesitated for a moment. "But... You're not okay, Murph. Are you?"

I laughed a little then, more tears flowing down my cheeks. I leaned my head back then along the surface of the wall behind me, staring up at the ceiling. "No, I'm fucking not," I said, trembling all over. "Tommy has the capability of knowing shit without me telling him, and something happened a few days ago that set him off... That's why I went to the hospital, Fi. He had too much to drink and flew off the handle, but it was an accident. Of course, I could've controlled myself, but I didn't... And now, here we are..."

"Controlled yourself?" Fiona asked, and I lowered my eyes back to hers. "What the fuck do you mean 'controlled yourself'?! What the fuck happened?!"

I sighed, knotting my fingers together. "You can't fucking tell anyone..."

"I won't say anything," Fiona said, stepping closer. "What happened?"

"I saw Nicholas."

Fiona's eyes widened for a moment and she shook her head. "Wait. Nicholas? I thought he ran off and was in hiding or some shit..."

I sighed. "Asked for a favor, from a cop buddy of his, and told him I needed to get the divorce papers signed," I said, the sentence tasting bitter in my mouth.

Fiona sighed. "You're really marrying, Tommy, then?"

"I have to," I said softly. "Anyhow," I went on, before Fiona could question my statement further, "Nicholas was the one who showed up, while we were each under the impression that some sort of go-between had been employed to do this..."

"What happened, Murph?"

"We met at the firm, in my old office," I replied, shutting my eyes and remembering every little detail—his hesitation, the pain that we each felt, his hands on me, his actions in slamming me up against the wall, all of it... "It all just became too much and we..."

"You fucked?" Fiona asked.

I opened my eyes. "Yeah," I replied. "Yeah, we fucked."

"You still love him?"

I hesitated then, leaning back against the wall, ignoring the waterfall of tears which continued to fall from my eyes. "No," I said, the word sounding hollow as it left my lips. "But I still felt something when we...fucked. It was magnetic, I don't know how else you'd describe it. I loved the sensation of his hands on me, and just when it seemed like I was ready—ready to agree to anything he wanted—he fucking left. Left me standing there with the fucking divorce papers that he signed. All I wanted to do was fucking scream and break shit but all I could do was stand there and fucking cry like a fucking teenage girl..."

"Murph?"

"What?"

"Who are you trying to convince here?"

I blinked then, remembering Ian saying the same thing to me—so long ago now—when I was still with Josh, and attempting to prove to myself that I didn't feel anything along the lines of romance for Nicholas. "What?" I asked, looking up at her.

Fiona sighed. "You still love him."

I shook my head at her. "No," I replied. "No, I don't—"

"Yeah, you do," Fiona replied, stepping forward and putting her hands gently on my shoulders and running her hands along them in comfort. "And it's okay to admit that."

"No, it's fucking not okay!" I cried out then, my voice shaking. "None of this is fucking okay, Fiona, not any of it!"

"Murph—"

"No!" I yelled, thrashing in her grip and attempting to get away from her. "No! I lost the greatest things in my life—my husband and my children—and now I'm fucking stuck with Tommy and a shit ton of stuff I'm not allowed to talk about with anyone..."

"Murphy," Fiona said, attempting to hold me to her. "It's okay. I understand—"

"You can't understand, Fi! Nobody can fucking understand!" I screamed. "Nobody can fucking understand any of this because I can't fucking talk about it with anyone! I have no one out there who I can fucking confide in!"

"Confide in me, then, Murphy," Fiona said urgently. "I'm here—"

I shuddered then, shaking my head at her. "You know I can't do that, Fi—there are rules about all of this, and I can't fucking break them... I'm just this fucking drone half the time—sleep, fuck, cook, work, clean, cook, fuck, sleep. Naked. Fucking naked all the time—physically and emotionally—because that's the way fucking Tommy likes it...fucking naked."

"Murphy?"

"What?" I whispered, feeling the physical exhaustion of keeping this all bottled up inside of me taking its toll as I struggled to look up at my sister.

"Tommy's been abusing you, hasn't he?"

I shook my head at her, my voice trembling. "Fiona, I just said that I can't—"

"Murphy, please," she said, her voice firm yet gentle. "It might make you feel better if you just come out with some of it. Don't even tell me everything. Just give me something. I promise, it won't leave this room."

I shuddered then in her arms then, shutting my eyes as a new wave of tears left my eyes. "Yeah," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I collapsed in her arms, and she held me against her, running her hands along my back, and soothing me, just like an older sister who had had to become a mother would do. "You name it, he's done it."

"You don't mean...?"

"Any chance he gets," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Fuck," she whispered. "God, Murph, I'm so sorry you have to go through all that."

I sighed, pulling back from her comforting embrace, and she gently pushed back my hair from my face. "When I can tell you everything, you'll understand."

Fiona sighed, lowering her eyes. "You know, Murph, I'm glad I got you to tell me about what's been happening with you, but that actually wasn't the only reason I wanted you to come all the way out here..."

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

She sighed. "Look, don't get me wrong, I wanted some information on your lack of communication with the rest of us recently—face it, you smell like a bag of secrets from a mile away—but I needed you here."

I cocked my head to one side. "Jimmy treating you okay?"

Fiona laughed. "He works too much, and I miss him, but we make it work."

"So, that would be a 'yes'? He's treating you okay?"

Fiona smiled. "Yeah, it's been great."

"Okay," I said, mulling it over in my mind. "So, what did you need me here for?"

My older sister sighed. "Look, we're not really telling many people yet—and, let's face it, I never even thought this would happen for me, and I wasn't sure I even wanted it until now—but Jimmy and I are going to have a baby."

I stammered then, pulling back as I looked her over. "Wait. Fi—you're pregnant?"

Fiona smiled a little then. "Yeah. Only a couple of months now—which explains the hesitation from telling people about it—but yeah. I'm very pregnant."

"You said you didn't want kids," I said.

She laughed. "Well, I guess I didn't want kids with anyone but Jimmy," she replied. "Now that I've got Jimmy—for good this time—I think it was the right time."

I rolled back on my heels then, mulling it over. "Well, if you're happy about it, Fi, then I'm happy for you."

"Really?" she asked. "You think I'll make a good mom?"

"You've already proven that you're a good mom," I replied. "It's me that clearly needs a lesson in parenting..."

"Murph, if what you told me just now about Tommy is true, then I think you did the right thing by getting your kids out of there," Fiona said with a smile. "You did it to protect them, not because you were being selfish. I think if you told Ian what you told me just now, he would understand it."

I sighed. "If I told Ian, he'd go over to see Tommy with a baseball bat."

Fiona sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right."

I rolled my shoulders. "Look, I know you want me to come clean about everything, Fi—and you don't know how much I want to do that with you and everyone else—but the fact of the matter is, it's my turn to do some protecting. I remember when Nicholas used to pull this shit with me, all I would think about was the fact that he was lying to me. I didn't think fully about the implications if I knew the full truth. Did I want to know the entire truth? Of course I did. But, in this case, if everyone knew the full truth..."

"We could ruin shit?" Fiona guessed.

I laughed a little then. "Well, not exactly..."

"Then explain it to me," Fiona said patiently.

I sighed. "Now, it's really not that simple, Fi..."

"Try to break it down for me, then," she said, obviously not going to give it up so quickly. "I've got all the time in the world."

I bit my lip. "And it won't leave this room?" I affirmed.

Fiona nodded. "It won't leave this room. Promise."

I wrapped my arms around myself again—more for comfort than for anything else. "Let's just say that if all goes according to plan, I could very well be saving the love of my life," I said, and Fiona raised her eyebrows then in surprise, just as surprised as I was, for in that moment, I had allowed myself to be utterly vulnerable to another person.


	7. Travel Light

Chapter Seven: Travel Light

NICHOLAS'S POV

"Six o'clock tonight, Nicholas. At your parents' firm. Have you got that?"

I listened to Mason's voice as I sat there in the back seat of the town car, hidden from view by the tinted windows, which was driven by one of his associates, my ear pressed to the disposable phone he'd gotten for me. "Yeah, I got that, Mason, all of it," I told him, nodding. Ever since I'd run, I'd been at Mason's beck and call, literally, but, to be honest, I owed him. I owed him my life, my freedom. Of course, none of my new life was perfect, given that I'd had to leave Murphy behind...

"Another one of my associates will be in the office with the light on," Mason explained as we arrived in the center of Chicago, and I found myself looking around the city, slightly shocked that nothing had changed. "They will collect the paperwork you've signed and then all this business will be over and done with."

"And the protection detail?" I asked, knowing that, if I were to call attention to myself, I would find myself locked up for good, and I couldn't have that.

"Plain-clothes officers will be stationed at every exit of the building," Mason assured me. "They will be dressed up like businessmen, homeless people, you name it. I can promise you that you will be well looked-after, Nicholas. I've got all my best men vouching for your well-being tonight, and you'll be even safer than a president."

"That's comforting," I said quietly to myself, not wanting to consider the four presidents who had been assassinated while in office.

"The GPS signal is telling me that you're in Chicago now," Mason said from the other side of the phone. "How's the traffic?"

I managed to peer through the windshield at the darkening day; it was the twenty-sixth of December, a day that was emotionally raw for me, for it was on this day three years ago that I'd sworn to be with Murphy for the rest of my life. Now, I was signing away that promise, which was her desire, not mine, although I could understand it completely—a beautiful woman like her likely had moved on in the year and a half I'd been gone, and she had every right to do so, even though it broke me completely... "Light traffic, nothing major," I managed to reply, leaning back in my chair. "I suspect we'll be a couple of minutes late..."

"The handler will wait for the drop-off, don't worry," Mason replied. "Look, Nick, I know that none of this can be easy for you..."

"It's fine," I replied, cutting him off, never one to delve very deep into my feelings with anyone—well, anyone except Murphy, but it was clear that that ship had sailed. "Mason, just give it to me straight, please," I said, and I could picture Mason now, raising his eyebrows, and waiting for me to ask my question. "Is she...okay?"

Mason sighed on the other end of the phone, the action peppered with reluctance. "Look, Nick, I don't want you to think..."

"I think about her constantly," I replied, hating that my voice was breaking about this woman who had hurt me time and time again, but had also made me feel things that I never thought would even be possible for me. And yet, I'd hurt her several times as well, and while neither of our actions made for a good marriage, there was just something about our time together that I just couldn't shake. I needed her, desperately... "I can't help it, Mason. I can't. I just need to know if she's okay."

Mason sighed again, and I could sense something underlying beneath the surface, but something told me then that I wasn't going to get the full story, not from him. "She seemed fine to me when she requested a go-between to make this all possible," he replied, and I dragged my hand over my face for a moment, infuriated that she just seemed to be 'fine'. "A little different—tired, I guess—but that's to be expected. She's running a business."

"And the kids?" I asked, desperation filling my voice. "How are my kids, Mason? Please. I need to know how they are..."

"Healthy," he replied, and I found myself pulling a face.

"Healthy?!" I demanded, hissing into the phone, not wanting Mason's associate to pull out a taser on me or something. "That's all you've got for me?! Healthy?!"

Mason sighed. "Look, Nick, they're kids. You want them to be healthy..."

I threw myself back against my seat then, filled with exasperation, knowing full well that nothing could be done about it, as I was literally walking around with a red circle on my forehead. "I guess that's true," I muttered.

"You'll complete the handover, and then Owen, my associate, will take you back to the private jet waiting for you at the airport—in the secure hanger—which is re-filling now. It'll take you back to your post, and then you'll be clear to return."

I sighed, nodding, hating the fact that I was so close to see everyone, and yet I was to be handled like a recluse teenager, all for my own protection. Half the time I wondered if I'd taken the deal presented to me by authorities—then, even though I'd be serving time again, at least I wouldn't have to be far away from Murphy... "Yeah, I know the drill," I informed him.

"You're close by the firm now, Nick. All uphill from here."

I sighed a second time, watching as we pulled into the parking lot, and I watched as Owen gave me a look in the rearview mirror as he shut off the engine, letting me know that I had to get a move on as quickly as possible. "Guess we're here," I said, running a hand through my hair. "I'll call you back once this is over."

"No need, Nick—I'll call you," Mason replied, cutting the call.

I waved to Owen in a sarcastic manner as I moved to exit the vehicle, my shades and baseball cap already in place, just in case the security camera guys Mason had employed for the night didn't do their job correctly. I walked straight over to the elevator and pressed the button, relieved when it arrived quickly and stepped promptly inside. I pressed the correct button and listened to the whirring noises of it pulling me up several floors, and was finally deposited in the lobby that I used to walk through daily. I stepped into the assistants' area, not bothering with the nostalgia as I tossed my shades and baseball cap on a desk as I walked down the hallway towards the larger, important offices, my heart lurching ever so slightly when I saw a light on beneath Murphy's office. Was this supposed to be some kind of sick joke or something?!

I turned the knob of the door turned slightly then, and I forced myself to step inside before I blew the entire operation. I very nearly let out a scream of shock when I saw the pair of dark eyes widening automatically when they saw who stood opposite them, and the hammering sound erupted from her chest then, almost as if it was threatening to burst forth. Her beautiful mouth fell open then as she stared at me, and all I could think about was shouting at her, or dragging her into my arms and...

"Nicholas," she breathed then, the air finally escaping from her lungs after she'd finally permitted herself to speak.

I shut the door behind me, the shock radiating through my entire being. "Murph... Mason didn't say it would be you... He said someone would..."

Murphy smiled at me then, and I felt my loins ache for her, especially when a delicate laugh escaped from her throat. "Yeah, he pretty much told me the same exact thing a couple of hours ago." She shrugged. "Guess he wanted us in the same room together or something..."

I stared at her for a moment—she had changed; there were deep purple circles beneath both her eyes; her lips were dark and cracked, nearly bleeding; her skin was as white as a ghost; and her body, which had always been a perfect hourglass shape, even while pregnant, was frail, and it looked as if she had lost a considerable amount of weight since I'd been gone... "Real funny joke, Murphy, really," I muttered then, and slammed down the papers on what used to be my desk, forcing myself to swallow my feelings of concern for her, but found I was surprised when she shrunk back at the sudden noise. "I signed the damned papers," I went on, finding it difficult to look a her. "Is there anything else?"

Murphy looked unsure then as she stood there, gazing at me, almost as if she was recording a picture with her minds' eye. She was, for once, speechless, almost as if she was thinking that I would want to say something else to her. Finally, almost as if she realized that it was her turn to speak, she spoke. "I don't know," she said quietly. "How about you?"

My eyebrows knitted together. What the fuck was she talking about?! Did she actually think that, after practically begging me to sign divorce papers, that I would actually be willing to touch her again?! "What?" I asked then, my voice coming out a snap. I was growing impatient with her and quickly, hating the close proximity that I'd been forced to experience, after everything we'd put the other through.

I watched then as she bite down, hard, onto her lower lip then, and I felt myself responding automatically to her actions—she still knew how to drive me wild. "What do you think?" she asked me, her voice barely above a whisper.

I sighed, fighting with myself—I couldn't believe that she was doing this to me, and that I was allowing her to do it, but it didn't matter. I'd wanted Murphy from the beginning, and that wasn't about to stop now, despite everything that had happened... "Goddammit," I whispered through my teeth then, moving towards her, her heady scent automatically filling my nostrils, which quickly set me on edge as I took ahold of her face in my hands, which was as fragile as a porcelain doll. "What have you done to me, Murphy?"

She blinked, and I felt myself twitch then at how enchantingly innocent she could make herself look. "What do you mean?" she whispered.

"I never thought I'd want..." I broke off, dragging my thumb over her bottom lip, moving it gently along the cracked skin, not wanting to hurt her. How I wanted to be gentle, to drag her to my lips and to kiss her, to just hold her in my arms... But I couldn't—all I wanted to do was punish her, and I knew exactly how to do that. I turned her around and slammed her into the wall, ripping down her jeans and nearly gasping aloud when I saw several bruises on her creamy-white flesh, but I was at the point of no return, unzipping my own jeans and inhaling her gorgeous scent, hating myself for not bringing a condom with me, but knowing that we both wanted this, and there was no way either of us could stop. "You're a fucking minx, Murph. Do you know that?"

She turned around then, her hair slightly tickling my chin as she turned and looked at me over her shoulder, her face deliciously beautiful, despite the pain she was attempting to hide behind her deep brown eyes. "I know that fact very well...Nick."

I found that I gasped a little then at the use of my abbreviated name, and my hand dove underneath her sweater before I could call it back, cupping her breasts and running my cool fingertips along her nipples. She groaned at my touch, bracing herself halfway on the wall, and halfway against me, and I found I missed the feeling of her body on mine. "Do you like that?" I whispered, breathing slowly onto her skin as she shuddered beneath me. "Do you like that, Murphy? Tell me you like that..." I ordered her, my voice husky.

"I don't," she whispered, and I very nearly let her go, wondering if she no longer wanted a savage like me touching her. "I fucking love it," she said, moaning aloud again as I squeezed her breasts then, tighter, tighter... "More," she begged me, arching along my frame.

"More what?" I whispered, resting my chin on her shoulder. "Tell me, Murphy. Now."

"Hard," she said, her voice filled with wanting. "Deep... Hard and deep...inside me. I need you, Nicholas...please..."

Suddenly, I found myself unable not to give into her wishes—the years of pain after our separation flooded through me, and as I slammed into her, I felt Murphy let out a short gasp then, almost as if she was shocked at the feelings that I could evoke from her. However, once she began to moan, I found I was much more secure in this rough fucking session, knowing that she would want me to hold her, but also knowing that she would know that I couldn't. I couldn't hold her, because I was still internally raw from the way we'd left things, and now she'd wanted me to sign some goddamn divorce papers, even though she made it seem like she was going to wait for me. She would know that this was my sweet form of punishment, but as she backed into me, urging me further and further inside her, I knew she was begging for it. She didn't want me to stop this assault on her body—or her senses—and I could see that her fingers were twitching, wanting more than anything to touch me, but she knew that that was not part of the game, and, a moment later, she flattened them onto the wall before her, soft mewls escaping her lips as she clamped down, hard, onto me then, sending me completely over the edge.

"Dammit," I said, releasing into her.

I watched as she tried to grab at the wall, but there was nothing—nothing, but for my arms firmly holding her upright as her knees suddenly weakened. "Fuck," she moaned. She did her best not to stumble then as I pulled away from her, whereupon she yanked up her jeans and turned around to look at me, her afterglow looking beautiful. "Man... That was..."

I shrugged. "Yeah," I replied, not wanting to get too emotionally invested.

She sighed, stepping closer to me. "Is that all you have to say?"

I straightened my clothes then, trying and failing not to look over at her, knowing it would prove to be even more difficult. "Does it matter?"

"It does to me," she said, my voice breaking slightly.

I laughed bitterly, knowing that I had to hurt her, one last time, to make this easier for the both of us in the long-run. "Oh, please. I doubt that."

Murphy shook her head, and I found I was slightly irked—as well as slightly pained—to see her looking so shocked. "I thought..."

"Don't," I said, my voice firm, doing my best not to break completely at the pain that I was causing her, which was like a knife in my chest. "I brought what I came here to give," I went on, nodding at the paperwork on the desk, which was a big mistake, due to our many times atop that thing. "The rest..."

"The rest didn't mean anything to you?" she asked me.

I turned and looked over at her; she sounded vulnerable, that much was clear, and I knew she would be loathing herself for allowing herself to appear that way before another person. "Was it supposed to?" I ask.

I watch as she clamped her mouth shut then, the wave of emotions dying everywhere, but for a small spark, hidden behind her eyes, and I knew she was doing her very best to hold it together, despite the notion that we were both breaking inside. "No," she said, and I knew full well she was lying through her teeth, and doing her best to make her voice unemotional. "Of course it wasn't supposed to matter. It sure as shit didn't to me, either."

I nodded stiffly, knowing that our conversation—possibly our final one—was coming to a devastating end. "So we're on the same page."

She nodded back. "So it would seem."

"Great," I said, my voice completely unemotional as I turned halfway away from her and opened the door, before turning back to her one last time, seeing the desolation clearly painted on her beautiful face. "Have a nice life, Murph. Really. I mean that."

"Yeah," she replied, and I found that there were so many unspoken things between the two of us, and she looked as if she would say more, but the moment passed, and she decided to keep our farewell short. "You, too, Nicholas."

I shut the door behind me then, making my way back down the hallway and towards the assistants' area, retrieving my baseball hat and sunglasses and putting them on as I made my way back towards the elevators. I pressed the correct button, wanting to be out of here quickly, not wanting to share an elevator with Murphy at all, and wanting to put as much distance between the two of us as possible. When the elevator arrived, I felt my breath hitch in my throat then as I stepped inside, not even bothering to turn around. As the doors moved to shut behind me, I slammed my fist, hard, into the wooden wall.

"Fuck!" I screamed as the wall shuddered slightly, a slight gash left behind from the impact of my fist. Pulling my hand back down then, I saw that it looked slightly mangled, and knew that Mason wouldn't be too happy that I'd apparently broken it. I felt the tears coming into my eyes then and I dashed them away, shaking my head. "Fuck this shit," I muttered as the elevator doors opened behind me, and I stepped back out, towards the town car, which would take me back to the airport to resume what was my new life.

. . .

MURPHY'S POV

I lay on the bed that evening, feeling dirty after Tommy's latest pilfering of my body, and wanting more than anything to receive permission to put on clothes. A nun's habit wouldn't deter Tommy—even I knew that—and it didn't seem to matter if I was in the mood or not. I mostly stopped protesting, now that Mason's men were surveilling us twenty-four seven, and all I could think about was how I was supposed to trust them all. I knew that I was merely going by Mason's word here, but I had no idea if I could trust him.

Just after midnight on the second Friday of February—Valentine's Day—Tommy reached over in the darkness of our bedroom and yanked me over to him. I felt the bile rise up in my throat as his naked body touched mine, and all I wanted to do was claw his eyes out. As I lay there beside him, I did my best not to make any physical or verbal motions of protest, which left Tommy with no reason to believe that he was not permitted to touch me. As he turned me away from him and positioned me to his liking, I felt the tears creep out from my eyes as he held me roughly by the hips, pumping in and out of me like I was some slut he'd picked up on a corner. It was almost as if human decency didn't even factor here; I was to be punished however he saw fit, whenever he saw fit; it didn't matter what day it was.

"You ever think we find the right person?"

I raised my eyes upwards then, meeting Sierra's, as we sat across from one another, re-filling the napkin holders before the lunch rush. All I wanted to do was distract myself from what I expected to happen as soon as I walked in through the front door of my house that evening, and since I was already ahead on our ordering, this seemed to be a welcome distraction. "I don't know about that," I said quietly.

Sierra blinked. "What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "Guess I'm not really feeling like a loving person..."

"Why not? Isn't Tommy nice enough to you?" she wanted to know. "I know that it hurt really bad after Nicholas left, but you said you didn't think you'd find anyone else, but then Tommy was hanging around, and next thing everyone knows, you're engaged..."

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "There's a lot more at play here than other people realize, Sierra," I said quietly.

"What? What are you talking about?" she asked.

I bit my lip, knowing that I had to be careful, because we were supposed to be a sanitary establishment, and the last thing I wanted was us being shut down for a health code violation in the form of a bloodied mess on a tabletop. "It's complicated..."

"What's so complicated?" she wanted to know.

I shrugged. "A lot of shit."

"I don't believe you, Murphy," Sierra replied, and my eyes snapped to hers. "You're different, since Tommy walked into your life permanently, and it's not a good difference. Sure, you were stressed before, but now, you're like a shadow, not like a complete person anymore."

I lowered my eyes then, knowing just how right she was. I was playing my part far too on the nose—I had no confidence in Mason, or that he and his men would swoop in and get Tommy away from me when all of this was over. All I thought this was, all I really though this was, was something that would go on forever, and that I would never have the opportunity for happiness in my personal life ever again...

"Murphy," Sierra said, her tone impatient, and I slowly looked up at her again. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

I sighed. "I'm just tired, Sierra..."

"That's bullshit!" she cried out then, and I raised my eyebrows at her. "Sorry, but it's true. If you were tired, as the boss, you could take some time off. You went to go see Fiona in New York, but you seem to be even worse off than before. I see you working slowly in your office every single day, Murphy, almost as if you don't want to go home at the end of your shift. Why don't you want to go home?"

I sighed, deflating then as I released the napkins I'd been holding and leaning back in the booth we were sitting in. "It's not a home for me anymore, Sierra..."

"Why isn't it a home?"

"I don't have my kids," I replied simply. "I don't have my kids, because circumstances prevented me from holding onto them. I saw an opportunity, and I went for it. All I know is that this chapter of my life isn't over—it's only beginning, and all I can think of is the notion that I let go of the one dependable thing of my life..."

"You mean Nicholas?"

I laughed bitterly then, the notion that Nicholas truly didn't want me washing over me as I remembered what had happened in my old office at the firm. "Please. Someone like him and someone like me? It could never have worked long-term."

Sierra made a face. "How can you say that?"

"I can say it because it's true," I replied. "We were too different."

"Too different?!" she demanded. "You were in love!"

"Love," I said, scoffing as I shook my head at her, setting my head into my hands and rubbing my temples. "Love is a fantasy. It doesn't exist."

"The hell it doesn't," Sierra said, obviously growing exasperated with me. "How can you say something like that?! It's bullshit, Murphy, total bullshit!"

"It's not bullshit!" I fired back, thundering to my feet and shocking Sierra. "I mean that it's a fantasy for me, for fuck's sake! Someone like me... We're too goddamn closed-off for our own good, and then when we finally allow ourselves to show off our vulnerable side, it comes too late, or we show it off to the wrong people, to the point where we lose the right person, and find the wrong person. And then the right person walks out of our lives forever, and the wrong person fucking seizes hold of you, to the point where you can't get away, and all you're left with is the notion of how you had it made, and now you're left in darkness, alone, because everybody thinks they know every goddamn thing about your life, and even when you can't tell them about it, because you fucking want to protect them, it doesn't work, and they fucking abandon you like yesterday's trash..."

Sierra stared up at me then, surprised at my outburst; she knew as well as I did that I never acted that way with anyone—even with belligerent customers. She slowly got to her feet then and looked me over, concern radiating from her expression. "Murphy," she said, her voice gentle, as she reached out for me then.

"No," I said, sidestepping her efforts. "Don't." I trudged back towards my office, vaguely aware of the other members of the staff staring at me. "The lunch rush is going to start any minute. You better get a move on things..."

. . .

"...and so, as I was saying, I'm pretty fucking uncomfortable with it, so I think that you should get it removed and start fresh."

I shook my head then, trying to clear it, as I raised my eyes to Tommy's, watching as he sliced another bite of steak for himself. "I'm sorry—long day at work, pretty tired," I said, forcing a smile onto my lips, which caused them to rip ever so slightly. "What was it you were you saying, Tommy?" I asked him.

"I want you to remove Nicholas's name from your body," Tommy said, popping the bite of steak into his mouth. "This is some damn good sirloin..."

"Glad you like it," I said, wondering if I'd heard the first part correctly. "You want me to get my tattoo removed?" I asked.

Tommy gave a stiff nod, locking his eyes to mine. "I didn't stutter," he said, his voice slightly impatient with me. "That's what I said."

I bit my lip then, lowering my eyes to my own steak, which only had a couple of bites eaten from it; I was hardly ever hungry these days. "You're serious?" I whispered.

"Completely," Tommy replied, reaching out and grabbing ahold of my wrist, hard. "You're going to be my wife, Murphy, and the last thing I want is another man's name tattooed over your heart like that. It's like you're being disloyal to me."

I sighed. "You know very well I got the ink before we were even together, Tommy. We've been over this."

"And we've been over my discomfort for it as well," he said, his tone clipped. "I want you to get it removed and get another one—one that symbolizes me."

The bile threatened to rise in my throat again as I immediately snapped my gaze over to him, and found my eyes widening. "What?" I demanded.

"As my wife-to-be, you have to consider my thoughts and feelings, as well as my wants and desires for permanent things in our lives," Tommy replied simply, squeezing my wrist hard, and I knew he could snap it in half if he had a mind to. "At the very least, we could take out Nicholas's name and put my name over your heart, but I think an entirely new tattoo would be the better bet here."

I straightened a little in my seat then, not knowing what came over me then, but I decided to at least attempt to take a stand. "No."

Tommy's eyes flashed dangerously then. "No?"

"I didn't stutter," I replied, knowing full well I could start at any moment, due to the fact that Tommy frequently scared the shit out of me. "I said, 'No'."

Tommy sighed. "I'm going to give you one more chance, Murphy," he said levelly. "Tell me you're going to get the tattoo removed, and that you'll get something to commemorate our love in exchange."

I shook my head at him. "No," I said again.

"No?" he asked. "To which part?"

"To all of it," I replied, my confidence suddenly building with every word as I refused him. "I'm not going to get Nicholas's name removed from my body, and I'm not going to get anything on my body to commemorate our love. It's not happening, Tommy. I'm sorry that you're uncomfortable with his name on my body, but if you didn't insist on me being naked so fucking often, it wouldn't be a problem, now would it?"

He narrowed his eyes slightly then. "You've just blamed it on me."

I sighed. "Tommy, face it—you want me naked quite a bit."

He shook his head then, releasing my wrist, and staring at me with such a hatred that I'd never seen before. "You are such a fucking bitch," he growled.

I lowered my eyes. "I'm sorry you feel that way," I replied.

"Not half as sorry as you're gonna be!" he fumed then, backhanding me unmercilessly across the face, so much so that I flipped backward upon my chair, and landed, hard, on the wooden floor of the kitchen. Before I even had time to react, he was straddling me then, effectively holding me down on the floor with his entire body weight, as he rolled his fingers up into his palms, beating me as quickly as he could.

His fists drove themselves into my body, and didn't seem to show any sign of willingness to stop their assault. He swore at me countlessly—calling me every name in the book—telling me that I was ungrateful for him for picking me, because Nicholas had no longer wanted me. He then went on and said that my entire family had turned their back on me, because I was completely unlovable, and that he was the only one who even cared about me. My siblings, my children, even my husband—gone from my life; I could see them, but I couldn't touch them.

As I lay there, accepting the beating me was giving me—one of the worst I'd ever experienced—I didn't even cry out. I didn't even care anymore, because I was starting to become convinced that Tommy's words were right. And then, I felt as if I was floating outside my body as my mouth filled with blood; I could see the assault from my perch above, and then I vaguely heard Tommy screaming my name, as a white light obliterated my vision, and I wondered if, finally, this was the end I'd been waiting for.


	8. Breathin'

Chapter Eight: Breathin'

I was vaguely aware of being loaded on a stretcher, and Tommy's panicked voice as he attempted to explain to the paramedics what happened. Slipping in and out of consciousness in the moments that followed, I was relieved when they told him to step back, and that he was not permitted to ride along in the ambulance with us. I felt them securing an oxygen mask onto my face, followed by several voices demanding explanations of what was happening, but no questions were answered. Tommy tried to interrupt the voices—something about me not wanting these people around—and I knew immediately that he was attempting to keep my siblings away from me once again.

I couldn't struggle; in fact, I could barely move as they slammed the doors closed to the ambulance, and so I decided to work on my breathing. Slowly, in and out; then came an injection to put me to sleep, and I felt as if I was becoming weightless as the vehicle surged through the night, destination, hospital. I felt myself continuing to become weightless then, and felt as if I was drifting out of my body again, and then, suddenly, the ambulance jolted to a stop, and the doors were opened, cold air blasting me as I was yanked with the stretcher and into the hospital building.

"What do we got?" came the voice of the doctor, and I became aware of the notion that the sounds around me were growing fuzzier by the minute.

"Caucasian female, late twenties," came the reply of a paramedic. "Fiancé said something about her showing up at home after a trip to the grocery store and being mugged."

"On Valentine's Day?" the doctor demanded.

"That's just what the guy said, doc," the man replied. "Said they'd just sat down to dinner and then she forgot a bottle of their favorite wine, said she'd go pick it up. Fiancé's a cop, so he knows how dangerous the neighborhood can be at night, so he tried to go out instead of her. He said she insisted or something..."

"Let's get that I.V. hooked up properly, then," came the doctor's voice again, and I suddenly felt as if I was being transferred from the stretcher and onto a hospital bed. "Okay..."

"Doctor?" came a new voice—of who I thought was a nurse. "Everything okay here?"

The doctor sighed, and I suddenly felt as if their voices were becoming muted. "I don't think so, Hattie," came the doctor's reply. "Get a crash cart!" he suddenly screamed then, as I felt as if I was on the road to no return. "She's losing consciousness—and it's not because of the medication here, boys! We're losing her!"

I felt as if I was entering an ethereal domain then, as the wisps of clouds were reaching out to bring me out of there, out of that life. I felt myself rising, and not falling, not anymore; I could no longer hear the shouts of the doctors and nurses, attempting to save me. No longer could I feel the shallow breaths attempting to force themselves in and out of my lungs. I found that I was no longer confined to the prison I'd built for myself, with Mason's help, and the thought of my escape from everything was, momentarily, at least, satisfying. Then, I saw it, one of the few things that could and would pull me back down to earth, and made me realize, for the first time, what life was really all about. Love. Love.

. . .

 _In sleep, he never looked more peaceful; he appeared younger than his thirty-two years, and his brow was not furrowed with worry, as it had been constantly for the past year. He even smiled in his sleep, and I hoped that, for once, he was not having a frightening nightmare. His lashes swept his cheeks, and my heart ached with love for him, and, even though it would break my heart, I knew what I was proposing was right for everyone._

 _I finished walking down the stairs, and dropped the duffel beside him, and watched as my husband's eyes sprang open. "Get up and get dressed."_

 _Nicholas looked surprised then and lowered his eyes to the duffel. "What's this?" he asked, and smacked the back of his hand against it._

" _It's your shit," I replied. "I packed it for you."_

 _Nicholas got to his feet then and stepped into his boxers. "What are you saying?"_

" _I'm saying get out."_

 _My husband looked shocked. "Murph, last night..."_

" _I was telling you goodbye," I replied, willing for my voice not to shake. "I had to tell you goodbye properly. I'm your wife."_

" _Are you telling me you want me to face this legal battle alone?" he asked._

 _I shook my head. "Don't be stupid," I replied, and yanked him towards me then—I needed to feel him in my arms, just one more time. "I'm telling you to fucking run," I whispered into his ear, unknowing if we were being watched. "I loaded it down with some of our emergency cash, and your passport. I want you to take it, and your clothes, and fucking run. I want you to get as far away from here as possible."_

" _And you?" Nicholas asked, looking me up and down then as he pulled back. "What will you do, Murphy?"_

" _I'll raise the kids," I replied. "And I'll work as hard as I can to figure out who is framing you, because you're my husband. I owe it to you."_

 _He nodded. "Okay. I trust you."_

 _I smiled, standing on my toes then and kissing him. "I need a favor."_

" _What?"_

 _I sighed. "We need to make it look like you left for a reason..."_

 _He looked confused. "What?!"_

" _When the cops come to question me about where you are, I'll say we had a fight about Tommy, and that you were convinced that I cheated on you."_

 _He shrugged, pulling on his T-shirt. "Not so far-fetched..."_

" _Yeah, but we need to make it convincing..."_

 _My husband cocked his head to one side. "How should we do that?"_

 _I sighed, knowing that I shouldn't be asking this of him, but I didn't see any other way for him to get out of here convincingly. "I need you to hit me."_

 _He looked horrified. "Hit you?!"_

" _Hit me," I confirmed._

 _Immediately, Nicholas shook his head. "I'd never hit you, Murphy."_

 _Knowing I had to sell it convincingly, I also knew that I had to make it convincing for him. "I did cheat on you, Nicholas," I replied then, my voice deadly serious. "When Tommy kissed me, I fucking liked it. And when you were locked up, he came to see me. I was so distraught that I let him fuck me, in our bed, while the kids were asleep. We fucked hard for hours—he was better than you, too, and his dick was bigger," I said, taunting him now, and seeing that his fingers curled into a fist. "We fucked for hours, Nicholas, and he took me places that I'll never get with you and your limp dick. He's much stronger than you are, so he lasted longer, too—we both did, because I didn't let him use a condom on me!"_

 _My husband lifted his fist then, which slammed into my face without mercy, and I immediately fell to the ground then, knowing that I had done a good job. "Bitch! I'll fucking kill him!" he raged down at me._

 _I felt the shaking sobs ebb from my throat then—it was the right thing to do and the wrong thing to do, all wrapped up carefully in a little package. "Now you can run, because we made it convincing for them," I whispered._

" _What?!" Nicholas demanded._

 _I raised my face to his, and tried to see out of my right eye, but found that I couldn't, as it was quickly swelling shut. "I haven't slept with anyone since Josh since we got together," I whispered to him then, and my husband looked horrified at what he had done. "We had to make it convincing, Nicholas, and now it will be. Now, you can run, and it'll look like a domestic dispute, so they won't think you've gone far, and now you can run..."_

 _Nicholas immediately picked me up then, holding me to him. "Murph, why would you do something like that?"_

" _I had to," I whispered, my voice shaking. "I had to, Nicholas. You saved me. You saved my life a long time ago, and I can never thank you enough for it. Maybe by saving your life from injustice, you can have a shot of a better life."_

 _He pulled back and looked down at me then, gently kissing my eyelid. "I'll try and find some payphones to call you from, Murphy..."_

" _Be careful," I replied. "Once Ian figures out what happened—and believe me, he'll figure it out—you'll be a marked man."_

" _Will you tell him the truth?"_

 _I shrugged. "I don't know yet. I don't know who to trust."_

 _My husband leaned down and kissed me then. "I love you."_

" _I love you, too, Nicholas," I replied, tilting my head back to kiss him again. "But now I need you to run and get the hell away from here."_

. . .

 _Slam_. It felt as if someone had literally brought me back down to earth, with the clouds remaining in the sky where they belonged. I was plummeting now, and I knew why; whoever was in charge had deemed that it wasn't time for me to go yet, and the doctors were attempting to bring me back, because that's what they did.

 _Slam_. Maybe it was destiny, or fate, or something straight out of a Hallmark card. All I did know was, that it wasn't my time yet, and I was brought back for a reason. Maybe it was Nicholas, maybe it was to get rid of Tommy. I wasn't sure; all I did know was that I'd been shot back down to the surface of the world, and I'd been given another chance.

 _Slam_. I felt the breath returning to my lungs then, and I felt a gasp escaping my lips.

"We got her back!" came the exulted voice of the doctor.

My eyes flew open then, and I shot up like a fireplace poker had been jammed onto my skin, and I found myself looking around at the sea of strangers around me, and they all of them looked shocked at this sudden turn of events. I felt my mouth drop open automatically then, so amazed that they'd all answered this call to arms, as it were. Sure, it was their job, but they'd all played a valuable role in saving my life, and another person's as well, if all went according to the plan that Mason and I had set in motion...

"Hi, there, I'm Dr. Lishman," said a man with slightly floppy salt and pepper hair as the nurses made themselves scarce. He stepped forward then, a clipboard replacing the crash cart in his hand as he looked me over, his brown eyes concerned as he looked me over then. "Can you tell me your name?"

I raised my eyebrows immediately as he said his name. "Holy shit," I said quietly, finding that the term 'conflict of interest' rolled around in my brain.

Dr. Lishman looked surprised at my reply, picking up his stethoscope and placing it carefully onto my chest. "Um... Twenty years ago, I could ask if that was a Native American name, but I don't think it'd be very appropriate now..."

I shook my head. "No," I replied. "No, not really..."

He smiled, replacing his stethoscope around his neck. "Well, your pulse sounds good and strong," he said. "Now that you're talking, do you think I could have your name?"

I laughed a little then. "You sure you don't already know it?"

"Pardon me?" he asked, making a grab for the eye shiner, which he shined in my eyes to check out my pupils.

"I'm Murphy... Gallagher," I said, doing my best to hold still for him and follow his finger all at once, and Dr. Lishman was the one that looked surprised this time around as he pulled back then and looked me over. "I'm Ian's twin sister. Half-sister really—we have different fathers. Our mom got pregnant with me a week after she got pregnant with him... You're a doctor, you know how it is better than I would..."

Dr. Lishman shook his head then, lowering his eyes back down to the clipboard and making a few notes before grabbing the blood pressure machine. "Yeah, I mean... When I found out that Ian had a twin, I never expected that a fraternal one, or a half-sibling, could look..."

"Like a female version of him, I know," I said, shrugging my shoulders and extending my arm towards him for the cuff. "Hey, best luck of the draw when it comes to genes, I guess..."

He nodded, velcroing the cuff onto my arm and proceeding the pump up the machine. "All about the genes..."

I wetted my lips then as I felt my fingers knotting into each other in an effort to distract myself from the pressure on my arm. "Listen, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I know about what happened with you and Ian a few years back," I told him softly. "And I'm not judging you, really, although, speaking as someone with a law degree, I can tell you that it was very irresponsible."

"Because I was still married?" he asked, reading the dial on the machine. "Or because my son was involved with your sister, and is now married to her?"

I let out a laugh then, meeting Dr. Lishman's eyes, and I knew that he was half-joking. "Because Ian was a teenager at the time," I replied. "I think, if I was living with the family at the time, I would've figured it out, and I would've beaten you up pretty bad. Worse than Mickey ever did, because that's my fucking twin, and nobody messes with him."

Dr. Lishman looked curious about the declaration then as he nodded to himself once he got the information he needed. "120/80—that's great," he said, as he turned back to look at me, tilting his head slightly. "Why weren't you living with the family at the time?" he asked. "You speak so fondly of them now and seem quite protective of them. Why weren't you ever around?"

I nodded my head slightly—it was an obvious question. "Monica—our mother—put me up for adoption right after I was born," I replied. "I was three-months-old before I was adopted. She had...suspicions that Ian wasn't Frank's kid, and so she automatically assumed that, since we were twins, that I wasn't either. I was given up, and the family kept Ian, and I was shipped off to Seattle where I spent the next twenty-one-years of my life, getting a law degree, and trying to survive the family I'd been placed with."

"Sounds like you and Ian both had to deal with your own versions of hell," Dr. Lishman said methodically then.

I smiled a little then, trying not to laugh, but suddenly groaned as a laugh escaped my lips then, and clutched at my ribs. "Fuck," I groaned.

"Careful, there, Murphy," Dr. Lishman warned. "Your fiancé said that you'd been mugged pretty bad," he went on. "The police are here and they want to talk with you."

I blinked. "The police?"

"A Sergeant Mason Crowe," said Dr. Lishman, reading the name off my clipboard. "I can tell him to wait, if you want to see your fiancé first..."

I shook my head at him, knowing I had to obey the law. "No, that's fine, Dr. Lishman," I said carefully, attempting to smile. "Mason's an old friend. He came come in."

"Sure," Dr. Lishman replied, smiling slightly. "Well, I'll be back as soon as Sergeant Crowe has finished with you," he said, stepping out.

I turned around then, slanting my pillows up against the head of the bed, on the off-chance that I would feel tired when Mason came in to question me. I folded my hands on my lap as soon as I'd finished, reaching up automatically towards my hair, and knowing full well that I must've looked as awful as I felt. I turned and looked around again, this time my eyes wandering over towards the window, and saw that the sun was rising along the skyline. Seeing the sun rising like that created a dull ache for Ian then, and I knew that, once everything was said and done, that he would be very angry with me for getting myself into this position. Of course, I was hopeful that compassion, understanding, and forgiveness would follow suit...

I turned back towards the door then, fixing a smile onto my face as Mason entered.

. . .

" _Murphy?"_

 _I turned around then at the sound of someone addressing me and plastered a smile on my face in an automatic gesture. "Hey, there," I said, immediately stepping forward and taking his offered hand. "You must be Mason?"_

 _Mason smiled. "I must be," he replied, pumping my hand for a moment. "We were just about to bring Josh into interrogation. The room you're going to be in he doesn't have access to—the people that we question come directly into the room, while the people who have been cleared to watch are in a separate room."_

" _With the see-through glass?" I asked as we stepped into the squad room._

" _Kind of," he replied. "Here, I'll show you the room," he said, stepping inside a darkened room with me and showing it off. "You can see him..."_

" _But he can't see me?" I guessed._

" _Exactly," Mason said, and gestured to the chair. "Nicholas mentioned that you were expecting, so we had a chair brought in."_

 _I smiled at him. "That was very thoughtful of you," I replied, moving to sit._

" _Is there anything you need while you're here?" he asked. "We don't typically have any gourmet food around here, but I could rustle up something from the vending machine..."_

 _I laughed. "I may have been a transplant—raised in Seattle—but my family is from the South Side, and in my three years of living with them, I'm South Side as well," I told him, and Mason looked uncomfortable then at his assumption of me. "Glass of water—cold, if you have it—would be just fine, thanks."_

" _You got it," Mason said, moving to leave. "And, just out of curiosity, are you familiar with a Frank Gallagher?"_

 _I rolled my eyes. "Your receptionist already asked me, and yeah, I am," I replied. "He's the deadbeat who found out about me at some point in my childhood and decided not to track me down, despite the fact that I was his second daughter," I said, no longer wanting to be jerked around by the man._

" _So, he's your dad?"_

" _Biologically, unfortunately," I replied. "I never had a father, and my mother was long dead before I ever managed to find my family, so no parents for me, thank you."_

 _Mason lowered his eyes. "I'm really sorry, Murphy..."_

" _Don't be," I replied, cutting him off. "I was twenty-one when I found out the truth, and even though I was raised by—shall we say insipid individuals, because I wouldn't want to be accused of slander, despite all the shit they put me through—I somehow inherited the intelligence gene and graduated high school at fifteen, and college at twenty-one, so I have a fairly good head on my shoulders. I turned out okay."_

" _Nicholas said you were independent," Mason said._

 _I scoffed, watching him leave to go and get my water. "Yeah, you don't know the half of it, detective," I muttered under my breath._

. . .

"Jesus Christ, Gallagher," Mason said as soon as he'd shut the door behind him. He shook his head then—and I was unclear as to whether it was at me and my actions or him and his own actions—as he pulled a chair towards my bed and sat down. "Tommy's spreading this bullshit story that you were mugged."

I sighed, leaning back against the pillows. "Yeah, I know. Dr. Lishman mentioned it, and I had to just play along, you know? It's getting easier to lie these days," I muttered, dragging my hands through my haystack of hair. "Not a good thing when you're an addict..."

Mason sighed then, his strong shoulders deflating. "This needs to end, Murphy."

My eyes snap to his. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I snapped at him.

"This—this thing between you and Tommy."

I shook my head. "That's not happening, Mason."

Mason dragged a hand through his hair. "Goddammit, Murphy—the son of a bitch has gotten you sent to the hospital twice, and has beaten you black and blue like this at least three times already. Not to mention the countless times he's raped you, all of which we've got on camera. I mean, let's face it—we have enough to lock him up for a long ass time..."

I sighed, knowing that it was my choice to make, but my decision had been made a long time ago, and I was going to keep my word. "It's not good enough, Mason."

"Murphy, are you hearing yourself right now?!" he demanded. "You're actually telling me right now that you're okay with all of this?! Being assaulted day in and day out?!"

I laughed bitterly then, clutching my ribs, and Mason's eyes flashed with anger. "If it's to get Nicholas out of mess, then yeah, it's all worth it. And even though he doesn't want me anymore," I went on, putting my hands back behind my head, "it doesn't fucking matter. I owe it to him—he saved my life in more ways than one when we were together, so I have to repay him for it."

"Is that what you think, Murphy?" Mason asked, and my eyes slowly drifted to his. "That Nicholas doesn't want you anymore?"

"How could he?" I snapped back, my tone bitter. "It's perfectly evident to him that I've moved on, don't you think? I got him to sign the goddamned divorce papers, and then he acted like the two of us..." I looked away from Mason then, my cheeks heating at the memory, and my eyes filling with tears in embarrassment.

"Murphy, are you telling me that Nicholas left something out when he reported back to me, after you two saw each other again?"

I chuckled bitterly, crossing my arms and gritting my teeth so as I didn't cry out again when my bruised ribs vibrated. "God... And I suppose I have you to thank for arranging that little reunion, don't I?"

"I thought it would be best, yeah."

"Jesus," I said, shaking my head as I turned back to him. "What do you want me to say to you right now, Mason?! That I fucked Nicholas?! Because I did. And you know what? It didn't mean shit to him. And you know why it didn't? Because I'm a fucking shadow," I said, slamming my fist into my chest, my voice trembling then. "I'm letting myself be consumed in this fucking mission because I know it's all for the greater good. I need to do some good, Mason, I fucking do, and even if I'm getting nothing in return, it's all worth it. It's all worth it because even though Nicholas couldn't give half a shit about me, I still fucking care about him. But I guess that's my lot in life, right? To end up alone, because that's exactly what I've always deserved, because I fucking push people away from me left and right with my goddamned trust issues, and I don't think I ever see those going away..."

"You think you deserve this?" Mason asked, his tone deliberately slow, almost as if he didn't fully understand it himself.

"Obviously, yeah, Mason, I do," I said, leaning back onto my pillows and staring up at the ceiling. "I'm saying I fucking deserve it."

He sighed. "Why are you punishing yourself?"

"Because I let him run," I said quietly, the tears falling down my cheeks and pooling into my ears as I made no sounds of sobbing. "I fucking let him run, and I didn't run with him. Do you know how many times I've regretted that choice? Thousands, maybe millions..."

"Don't do this to yourself Murphy."

I choked on a laugh then. "Do what?"

"Beat yourself up about all this. It's not healthy."

I scoffed then, looking up at him. "Why? Because Tommy's doing a better job?"

Mason shook his head. "I'm pulling you out of this..."

"No, you won't," I said, my voice firm. "I was mugged on the way to the store to buy me and Tommy a bottle of wine to celebrate Valentine's Day."

"Murphy..."

"No," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. "I said I'd get you what you wanted, Mason, and so help me, I want it as much as you do. I'm going to see this through."

"Murphy, what if it gets worse?"

I smiled a little then. "It always gets worse before it gets better."

"No, I mean..." Mason hesitated for a moment. "What if Tommy kills you?"

I shake my head at him. "He's not gonna kill me."

He sighed. "How do you know?"

"Because," I replied, "I'm gonna kill him first, if it comes down to it."

. . .

When Tommy announced his intentions to visit his parents in Palm Springs in the first week of March, my reward for covering for him on Valentine's Day was permission to stay home. I saw him off the morning he left, and just sat in the living room; my intention was to get to work in time for the lunch rush, giving me a few more hours to myself. I spent that time tidying up the living room, and just making plans for the weekend—which really didn't involve much, as I wasn't typically given permission to do much of anything.

Work did an excellent job of occupying my time, so much so that I was hardly aware of time passing, as I wasn't looking at the clock, willing for it to go slower. Since Tommy was out of town for the next couple of days, I didn't dread going home, not at all. I worked as I hadn't worked for months, getting a lot of paperwork done, and filing away old documents, as well as putting in some orders for the coming spring. Just as the dinner rush entered its second hour, I decided to call it a day and closed up shop for the evening, saying goodbye to everyone and leaving the diner.

As I went to my car, I checked my phone, seeing a message from Tommy that his mother had made him his favorite dinner, and I sent him a happy face emoji. I sat there in my car, and remembered my Friday night meetings with Lip, which were due to start in half an hour. Heart in my throat, I decided to take a chance, now that I had a moment of freedom, and drove across town to the church where they were held, and pulled into the lot. There were several familiar cars parked around me, and I slipped out of mine, pulling my late-winter jacket around me as I walked towards the entrance, nearly stopping in my tracks when I saw Lip standing outside, a cigarette in his hand.

"Lip?" I said, stepping closer to him.

Lip started slightly, turning around to look at me. "Shit, Murph," he said, looking me over, his eyes filled with concern. "You don't..."

"Look good? I know," I said, stepping closer, pleased when he offered the cigarette to me, which I promptly took. I put it into my mouth then and inhaled, the toxins entering my lungs calming me then as I stood there with my brother, the familiarity between us allowing us to remain silent for a brief moment.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for a meeting."

"A meeting?" he asked.

I nodded stiffly. "Yeah. A meeting."

"Thought Tommy made you find a different one," Lip replied, sneering his name as he snagged the cigarette back.

I sighed. "Tommy's out of town."

"Oh, so you're on borrowed time. I gotcha," he said.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered under my breath. "Look, Lip, I came here to talk to you because I can't fucking take it anymore."

"You're going to admit that Tommy's a fucking psycho who gets off on beating the shit out of you?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah," I replied, the confession a weight off my shoulders as Lip's eyes snapped to mine. "But, I'm also evoking AA rules of confidentiality, so you're not allowed to go off and tell people."

Lip shook his head. "I think it only works when you're in the meeting..."

"We're on the property of the meeting, and we're making an exception tonight," I said firmly, taking the cigarette back from him.

"Shit," Lip said, shaking his head. "So, Tommy really beats you?"

I nodded stiffly. "Yeah."

"Who else knows?"

"The police that I'm working with to bring him down—who hid security cameras in our house—and Fiona knows."

"Wait, hold up," Lip said, taking the cigarette back. "You told Fiona?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"When?"

"When I went to see her in January," I replied. "Told her everything."

Lip sighed again. "Jesus."

I laughed aloud. "Something tells me that even he couldn't help."

"That son of a bitch..."

I shrugged. "Yeah, that's pretty much what we all call him..."

"So, what's he done?"

I turned and looked at Lip then. "What do you think?"

"Jesus, Murphy, are you telling me that he's..." Lip looked too shocked for words, the pain in his pale eyes speaking volumes.

I nodded. "Yep, he has, and the police have the security footage to prove it," I said, reaching out and taking the cigarette back.

"Well, then what are they waiting for?" Lip demanded.

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, why haven't they arrested the son of a bitch?"

I bit my lip, removing the cigarette from my mouth, allowing the plume of smoke to disappear into the night. "It's complicated..."

"Murph..."

I sighed, looking up at him. "Yeah, Lip?"

"I'm swearing not to say anything that you tell me—even though I think Tommy is a fucking monster who needs his ass kicked," he said, and I smirked at the visual. "But can you please tell me what you mean by 'it's complicated'?"

I stared at my brother then, wordlessly handing over the cigarette to him, but he no longer seemed interested. Stepping closer, I put my arms around him then, and Lip stood there for several moments, just holding me, and yet I knew he expected an answer. "What is it you want to know, Lip?" I whispered to him, knowing I needed an ally, another ally, one that was close to home, and, above all things, I needed my brother—or, at least, one of my brothers—back.


	9. Violent By Nature

Chapter Nine: Violent By Nature

"Tell me you're joking."

I was leaning against the brick wall, opposite Lip, the cigarette now in my hand, and, slowly, raised my eyes to his.

"Fuck," Lip whispered, his eyes tortured as he fully absorbed all I'd been through over the past year and nine months. "Really?"

I sighed, slowly bringing the cigarette back to my lips. "No reason to joke about it," I said, my tone bitter, inhaling deeply. "I'm sick, but I'm not that sick."

"Please tell me he doesn't withhold your medication. Tell me that, at least."

I shook my head. "No, he doesn't withhold my medication."

Lip blinked. "He doesn't?" he asked, surprised.

I scoffed. "It still turns me into a zombie some of the time," I muttered, shrugging my shoulders as I handed the cigarette back to him. "It's much easier fucking a zombie. My feelings don't shut off completely, but I'm able to ignore it. And he doesn't take too long either if I don't struggle. I guess a part of him gets off on it."

"So me, Fiona, and the cops are the only people who know about this?"

"Yeah," I said quietly.

"Why haven't you told Ian?"

I raised my eyes back to Lip's. "You know as well as I do what went down on Thanksgiving when he thought he had all the answers," I said.

Lip made a face. "He _did_ have all the answers, Murph."

I dragged my hand through my hair. "Doesn't matter if he had them or not. It was still assault, and even though the son of a bitch deserved it, I don't want my brother going to jail. I don't want any of you going to jail. This is an active investigation into getting rid of Tommy, but I won't have you all pulling vigilante justice. I don't know if I have the energy to represent all of you in court, even though I think I could put a spin on self-defense of a third person..."

Lip looked curious then as he took back the cigarette. "You think they'd actually let you represent us?"

I shrugged. "I don't fucking know anything anymore..."

"How bad is it?" Lip asked, his tone serious again.

I shook my head. "Lip, I don't think you want to know..."

"Don't tell me what I want to know," he snapped back, his tone still full of worry. "Come on. I think I know what I can handle."

I rolled my shoulders. "I already told you that he's been fucking raping me. I don't know how much worse it can get than that..."

"Well, we know you went to the hospital after Thanksgiving," he said, "after lying through his teeth that Ian bashed your head in."

"Oh, yeah, there's that," I muttered bitterly.

"Any other hospital visits?"

"Two."

Lip raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

I sighed. "Yeah, two..."

Lip dragged his hand through his hair. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me right now..."

I shook my head at him. "I'm not kidding. Twice after that. Once after Christmas and then again on Valentine's Day."

"Why'd he do it?" Lip demanded.

"First time was because I fucked someone else. The second time was because I refused to get my tattoo removed."

Lip looked shocked. "You fucked someone else?"

I nodded stiffly. "Yeah."

"Wait," Lip said, shaking his head, handing me back the cigarette, "you're not kidding here. I mean, who was it?"

I scoffed then, rolling my eyes as I inhaled deeply. "Nicholas," I muttered.

"Nicholas ran off," Lip said, looking confused as well. "How could you fuck him if he's been fucking gone? Did Tommy take offense to you being married to him or something?"

I muttered something unintelligible under my breath, inhaling again on the cigarette before I handed it back to him. "Mason, my contact in the police who's been handling all this shit with Tommy, arranged a meeting."

"So you could fuck?"

I reached out and punched Lip in the shoulder. "No, not so we could fuck!" I said, and Lip had the nerve to laugh aloud. "So that I could get the divorce papers signed..."

"A bargaining chip with you and Tommy?" Lip guessed.

I nodded. "Yeah," I said, wrapping my arms around myself. "Now, of course, if I don't get my fucking tattoo removed or sign my half of the papers, Tommy will probably kill me, so that's something to look forward to..."

"And Mason's not going to pull you out of this? Even after two hospital stays?"

I shook my head. "No, he's not pulling me out."

"Jesus," Lip said. "And I thought you were crazy..."

"I'm the crazy one here," I replied as Lip finished the cigarette.

"Yeah?" he asked. "How?"

"Because I told him not to pull me out," I replied.

Lip looked as if I was as crazy as I said I was. "Wait. No. You didn't..."

I sighed. "I did, and I am. I will."

Lip dropped the cigarette then, stepping on it with his shoe as he dragged his hand over his mouth in a moment of clarity. "Fuck, Murph. What the fuck are you thinking?"

I lifted my hands out then as I shrugged, dropping them dramatically down then. "Clearly, I'm not, according to Mason. He thinks Tommy's going to kill me. And why wouldn't he? I'm disobeying him at every turn, and the son of a bitch fucking gets off on that whole master/slave relationship..."

"So, you admit you're a slave?"

I sighed. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that," I say. "I mean, the only freedom I get is one AA meeting a week—away from you; my job at the diner; and taking my medication. Tommy has me cooking and cleaning the place, and I have to fuck him whenever he wants. And if I even try to form my own opinion or disobey him in any way, the son of a bitch beats the shit out of me and thinks it's okay..."

"You said he wanted you to get your tattoo removed..."

I sighed. "Yeah, he did say that..."

"Which one?"

I bit my lip. "Probably both of them," I said at last. "I mean, he slashed my left wrist—the one that has all our names on it—and he takes great care to beat me really well over my chest. But it's this one," I said, waving my hand over my chest, "that Tommy especially seems to have a problem with."

"And that got you sent to the hospital? When you said you wouldn't get it removed?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"How'd he spin that one?"

"Said I was mugged," I replied, "and I corroborated the story to Mason. I can't stop this now, Lip, any of it. I have to save Nicholas. I've got to."

"Why would you even want to?" Lip asked, not rudely. "I mean, let's face it, he _did_ leave you to save his own ass..."

"Because I told him to leave."

"He hit you before he left—"

"Because I told him to hit me."

"Okay, then tell me this," Lip said. "Did he even show any kind of emotion after you guys fucked? Well, did he?"

I shook my head. "No. No, he didn't..."

"So, do you even think he'll want you back, after all this?"

I shook my head again. "No. There's no way he'll want me back."

"Then why?" Lip wanted to know, and I slowly raised my eyes to his. "Why would you put yourself through all this bullshit, Murph? Why would you risk life and limb to save your soon-to-be-ex-husband, if there's nothing in it for you?"

"My kids need their father, Lip."

"But what about you, Murph?" he asked, putting his hand on my arm and, for the first time in a long time, I didn't pull away from affection. "What do you need?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Peace of mind?"

"Is it all worth it, though?" he asked.

I sighed. "Who the fuck knows?" I whispered. "All I know is, I made a promise, and I need to see this through to the end."

"Made a promise to who? To Mason? The fuck does it matter if you keep a promise to him, Murph? He shouldn't ultimately matter..."

"I made a promise to Nicholas," I said quietly, "before he left. I said I would find a way to figure out what fucked thing happened to make his old record come to light. I promised him that I would do this, and I owe it to him to keep it."

"Why do you owe anything to someone who clearly doesn't give a shit?"

"Because I give a shit," I said. "He saved my life more times than I can count, and now that I have the opportunity to return the favor, I owe it to him to see it through to the end."

"Even if you end up dead?"

I nodded. "Even if I end up dead."

Lip sighed, pulling me into his arms. "Well, I won't say anything," he said, and he tensed up then, fully realizing for the first time how thin I'd become. "But just so you know, Murph, if Tommy does kill you, I'm not going to your funeral."

"Yeah?" I asked, laughing at the joke. "Why not?"

"Because," he replied, "I'd be in fucking prison facing twenty to life."

"They have compassionate releases for a death of a family member..."

Lip laughed. "I doubt they'd let me out, Murph. If we still had the death penalty in this state, and if I fucking killed Tommy, my number would be up..."

I pulled back. "Once they see the tapes in court of all the shit Tommy's pulled, trust me, Lip, the jury could be swayed to see reason..."

Lip shrugged. "All I know is, if it comes out that he fucking killed you, or that you have to go to the hospital again, his days are numbered..."

I shook my head. "Don't say that, Lip."

"Why not?" he asked. "Tommy would deserve it, and you know it."

I sighed. "I know," I replied, "but I still don't want you going to jail. Not for me."

. . .

"Iana's in a play," I said one night over dinner, while I merely picked at the smallest serving of salad imaginable on my plate, while Tommy heartily dug into his pork chop, which made me want to vomit.

"Which play?"

" _Little Red Riding Hood_ ," I replied.

"They're doing that at her school?"

I shook her head. "No, it's a community play."

"Who is she playing?" Tommy asked, his tone uncaring, as he stared at his cell phone to check the score of a game.

"Little Red," I replied.

"Hmmm," Tommy replied.

"So, I'd like to go..."

"When is it?" he asked, not looking up.

"It's a limited engagement," I replied. "It only plays this weekend. Once on Friday night, and twice on Saturday and once on Sunday."

"Go to the Sunday matinee then," Tommy said, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm pulling a double on Saturday and Sunday. Have fun."

I felt relieved that I'd received permission to go, and spent the rest of the week making everything incredibly easy for Tommy, in the hopes that he wouldn't take it back. Finally, when the event came, I got dressed and hurried out of the house, relieved that Tommy wouldn't be there to make a comment about my outfit. I drove that afternoon to the theater, parking in the lot, and showing off my ticket to the ticket taker. Stepping inside, I spotted Ian, Lip, Debbie, and Liam in the front row, and realized that they'd probably gotten a sitter for Clayton and Fionn. I stepped forward, tentatively, wondering if Lip would pretend to be on everyone else's side while in public, unknowing of the outcome.

"Murph!" Lip said warmly, getting to his feet and pulling me into a hug.

"Just tell me now," I whispered quickly during our hug, "if you're going to shun me publicly and make me sit somewhere else..."

"I'm not," he assured me, pulling me back. "We saved you a seat."

I sighed, filled with relief as Lip sat beside Ian, and I took a seat on the other side of Lip. Ian, Debbie, and Liam all gave me cursory glances, but didn't attempt to get me into a conversation, and I wasn't surprised. Looking down at my program as I switched off my phone, I found myself smiling as Iana's name was proudly featured in the cast list. It was a short show—only about forty minutes—but there would be an intermission, for some reason. The show was due to begin in five minutes, and I kept my fingers crossed that none of my family members—save for Lip, who knew everything—would do anything to disrupt the day.

When the lights came down, the entire audience erupted into applause, which only intensified as Iana made her entrance, looking around the set of the woods around her. She confidently introduced herself, indicating her basket immediately thereafter, and informed us all that she was going to her grandmother's house with some food, as her grandmother was ill and likely needed a pick-me-up. I found myself smiling up at the stage, despite knowing I could no longer take full-credit for what my daughter was becoming, I still felt a sense of pride that she was there because of me, and she had never looked more beautiful than she did in that moment.

I felt a pair of eyes on me then and, as I slowly turned, I spotted Ian, blocked only by Lip, who was watching Iana happily. I felt my eyes widening beneath his accusatory gaze, and my heart hammered in my chest at the implications he was presenting with one look. I did my best to look away from him, and attempted to force my eyes to return to my daughter, but it did no good. I was frozen, staring at my twin, and I could do nothing but continue the look. He looked offended, almost, as if he was wondering why I dared to show my face here, despite the notion that this was a public place and I was more than welcome.

Finally, I managed to force myself to look away from Ian, so as not to miss another moment of my daughter's play. I watched, transfixed, almost as if it was the first time I was hearing the story of Little Red Riding Hood, and laughed when it was appropriate to do so—like at the rather funny costume they'd managed to procure for the wolf. The intermission began just after Little Red had stopped picking flowers, and, as soon as the lights came up, I excused myself—via Lip—to use the ladies' room. Making my way quickly out of there, I managed to find the single-seater room and locked myself in. Breathing in and out as quickly as I dared, I remembered the last time I'd felt so anxious in such a place was my final Halloween with Nicholas, when I'd hidden a flask in my clutch purse, and Debbie had encouraged me to get rid of it.

I shook my head, wanting more than anything to splash some cold water on my face, but I didn't even dare to touch the taps of the water. I was shaking, my face flushed, as I hurried to adjust my wrap more accordingly, for I couldn't bear to see the bones showing through my skin. I bit my lower lip, nearly splitting it, and I finally did so, a trickle of blood filling my mouth. I dug through my purse then, finding a Kleenex, and dabbing at my lip, hating myself for allowing myself to come undone like this. I used the clean edge of the Kleenex to dab at my forehead before I threw the paper into the wastepaper basket and turned around, unlocking the door and was about to step back towards the theater, were it not for the person blocking my path.

"Hey, Ian," I said, the sigh escaping my mouth before I could call it back.

"What the hell, Murph?" Ian demanded, narrowing his eyes at me.

I raised my eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Why are you so suddenly all buddy-buddy with Lip?"

I crossed my arms. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do," he said. "Come on. Admit it. What happened?"

I shook my head at him, attempting to move past him. "I am not going to have this conversation with you, Ian."

"Why?" he demanded then, going after me. "You obviously had it with Lip!"

I ran my hand along my forehead as I attempted to figure out which way would ultimately lead me back to the theater. "We're not discussing this, Ian."

"Murph, come on," Ian said, reaching out then and grabbing my shoulder, and yanked me around to face him. "What aren't you telling me?"

"A lot of shit," I hissed under my breath, "but nothing you need to know."

Ian shook his head at me. "I know you're in there somewhere, Murph."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Don't do this, Ian... Not here."

"No, _you_ don't do this, Murph!" Ian nearly shouted then, growing exasperated and I knew then that, had the roles been reversed, I'd be acting the same way. "Come the fuck on! You used to tell me everything. Are you telling me those days are over?"

I looked at his desperately then. "Ian, don't..."

"Murph, you don't," he said, looking at me, filled with worry. "I need to know what the fuck's going on here. You're my sister—my fucking twin. What is it that you've told Lip—because you've obviously told him something—that you can't tell me?"

"Can't you just think for a moment that I'd tell you anything that you need to know—"

"And who's to say I don't need to know this, Murph?" he asked me then, reaching out, almost as if he was going to hug me, but stopped himself. "Who's to say? Why do you get to suddenly decide what I know and don't know?"

"Because this is about me," I said quietly.

"All the more reason for me to know."

I shook my head. "Not this. You don't need to know this."

"I don't need to know that Tommy's fucking beating you?!" he hissed through his teeth, and I looked away from him. "Fuck, Murph... Why don't you just tell me? Give me a straight answer for once in your life."

"I've given you plenty of straight answers!" I fire back, looking up at him. "I just can't give you a straight answer here! Please, don't make me..."

"Murph, I'm asking as your brother, your twin brother," Ian said desperately, "can you at least tell me why you can't fucking tell me this?"

"Because, I don't want you to go to fucking jail," I whispered then. And, a moment later, I felt a hand on my shoulder and, turning, I was shocked to see Lip standing there. "Hey," I said, trying to remain nonchalant.

"They're going to start again any minute," Lip said, forcing a smile on before turning to look over at Ian. "Everything okay out here?"

Ian shook his head. "Lip, tell me what you know..."

Lip sighed. "I can't do that, Ian."

"But, you do know something?" he asked.

Lip shook his head. "I can't tell you that either, Ian."

Ian turned and looked over at me. "Murph...please..."

I sighed, lowering my eyes. "I can't, Ian. I'm sorry."

"This is bullshit," Ian said, knocking into the both of us as he returned to the theater.

"You didn't tell him?" Lip asked.

I shook my head. "I can't. You know I can't."

"He'd help you. I know he would."

"By what?" I demanded, turning back to Lip. "By burying Tommy six feet under? That wouldn't help me, Lip, and you know it. We need Tommy alive."

Lip sighed. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" I asked him. "Because any physical harm coming to Tommy would definitely not help this situation..."

"I'm talking about supporting you," Lip replied, and I shook my head at him, looking away. "I mean, let's face it, you two are the closest..."

I shrugged. "Whatever..."

Lip placed a hand on my shoulder. "He could help you through this, Murph. In ways that nobody else could."

I sighed. "I can't take his help," I replied, moving out from under his arm. "I can't depend on him like that, not now. I'm already expecting far too much from him as it is," I said, the dejection filling my tone as I moved to return back to the theater, Lip walking just a half a step behind me.

. . .

As I drove home early that evening, thoughts flowed through me of the events of that day, and how I knew that Lip was right—completely right. Ian could help me through this in a way that nobody else could, and that was exactly why I had to go it alone. If Ian knew one ounce of information—confirmed information—about what I'd been through these past twenty-two months I'd been apart from Nicholas, Tommy was likely to have a target on his forehead in seconds.

As I turned onto our street, I felt the anxiety return to me then as I saw that Tommy's car was parked outside the house. Pulling up behind it, I shut off my vehicle and hopped out, locking it up and standing there, in the middle of the street, for a moment. I turned and looked behind me then, seeing my former residence and knowing that I could do it. I could go over there and tell Ian everything that had been happening, and ask for his help. However, the thundering of my heart told me that, though I was filled with dread to be alone with Tommy more than ever, I'd made the choice to go it without him, and I had to keep going.

I trudged up to the house, opening up the gate and stepping through, taking doubly long to lock it behind me and make my way up the walk. As the stairs made no sound as I stepped on them, I sighed, knowing that I was small and weak—just how Tommy liked me—and that there was hardly any way that I could be a match for him. I swallowed then, fishing my house key front and center as I opened the door, knowing that whatever waited inside couldn't be good.

"Murphy." Tommy's voice jarred me completely, and I did my best to remain neutral as I got my wrap off and hung it over my arm, ready to take it upstairs.

"Hello, Tommy," I replied, slipping off my heels as I shut the front door, locking it behind me as I stepped into the living room. "Good shift?"

He shrugged. "Can't complain."

I did my best not to sigh aloud then, knowing full well that he had something on the tip of his tongue, ready to complain about. "Okay, Tommy," I said, setting my shoes on the stairs and hanging my wrap on the bannister as I calmly stepped towards him. "If there's something on your mind, then say it."

Tommy got to his feet then, immediately ready to beat me down for the umpteenth time, as he stepped closer. "We need to talk."

I nodded. "Okay, Tommy," I said, unmoving as he stepped closer, but all eyes and ears nonetheless—he stumbled slightly, leading me to believe that, as soon as he'd returned from his double shift, he'd begun hitting the bottle, hard. "What's on your mind?"

Tommy finally reached me then, grabbing ahold of my collar, and I groaned slightly as he yanked me towards him, knowing I should be entirely used to this treatment by now yet, despite everything, it always caught me by surprise, as Tommy was one to vary the tune a bit. "When were you going to tell me that Nicholas signed the divorce papers?"

I blinked then, shocked that I'd neglected to tell him such a thing yet, with everything that had been going on, I cursed myself for letting it slip my mind. "I'm sorry," I said, the fear ebbing through me then as I forced myself not to struggle to escape his grip. "I forgot to mention it, really. I'm sorry..."

Tommy shook his head. "You just want to keep me waiting..."

I vehemently shook my head then, vowing for my voice not to shake. "That's not true!" I cried out then. "I wouldn't want to keep you waiting, Tommy. Promise."

Tommy stared down at me then, his dark eyes swimming with a combination with anger and arousal, at how he literally held my life in his hands. "I don't believe you," he said, the stink of alcohol escaping from betwixt his lips and up into my nostrils.

I felt myself trembling inadvertently in his arms. "I promise. I just forgot. I wouldn't want to make you wait, Tommy..."

"You don't even love me," he growled.

I felt the bile rising in my throat then, but I choked it down. "Of course I love you—"

" _Don_ ' _t_ lie to me!" he screamed at me then. "I know what you feel for me, Murphy, and it isn't love, but that's just fine. I've got you right where I want you, and that'll suffice just fine. And besides, I always get what I want, in the end..."

"What you want?" I ask, hating myself for letting my voice tremble. "What do you mean you always get what you want?"

Unmercilessly, Tommy slammed me up against the wall, and my entire body shuddered in pain, for I didn't had any extra padding to cushion the blow. "I'm a cop, Murphy—above the law. I can do whatever I want, and get whatever I want, just because of my job. Doesn't matter who you are or what you do; I always get what I want."

I swallowed then, wondering if this was enough to get him. "Tommy, you don't mean that," I said, finding my voice again, from somewhere deep inside me. "You wouldn't seriously want to ruin people's lives—"

"Shut up!" he growled then, smacking me across the face with his free hand. "You don't know shit, Murphy, and you never will!" he yelled. "But you do need to be taught a lesson..."

"Tommy—!"

"However, if you'd be willing to sign your half of the divorce papers, we could move up the wedding date, and then we wouldn't have to have a punishment."

I shook my head. "No," I said, before I could call it back.

Tommy narrowed his eyes. "Murphy, you know very well what happened the last time you said 'no' to me. Think very carefully about the choice you're making."

"I don't need to think about it," I spat. "I'm not signing shit."

Tommy looked incensed then. "You don't want to say 'no' to me..."

"I just did," I snapped back. "Deal with it."

"Fine," Tommy said, and my breath caught in my throat as I saw him undoing his belt from around his waist then. "Then you deal with this," he said through his teeth, the sound of its buckle hitting the floor, sending me over the edge, "your punishment."

"No!" I screamed then, my hand curling into a fist, and hitting him as hard as I could in the face, causing him to double over and hit his head on the edge of the coffee table. "Tommy?!" I screamed aloud then, a trickle of blood oozing from his temple. "Shit..." I whispered, bending down, and seeing that he was out cold. "Mason," I hissed, looking around, unknowing where he'd put every camera, "send an ambulance! Send one! Please!"

I felt myself going numb then as the ambulance arrived, managing to stumble over a story about how Tommy had come home from his shift, gotten drunk, and wanted sex—which would explain his belt being off—and that he'd tripped and fell into the coffee table. I played the part of the worried fiancée perfectly, and rode along in the ambulance with him to the hospital. Almost as soon as we'd arrived, I was brought into the waiting room, still in my clothes from Iana's play, and just sat there, waiting, and staring at the white tiled floor...

"Murphy."

I looked up then, seeing Mason standing there, and launched to my feet, throwing my arms around him, and he patted me on the back. "You must've seen it—somebody must've seen it," I said, bursting back to look at his face, and covered my mouth when Mason motioned for me to keep my voice down. "Someone called..."

"I saw it," Mason assured me.

I sighed, forcing myself to nod, and it felt weird to move my neck. "What happens now?"

Mason looked uncomfortable then.

I searched his face. "Mason?"

He sighed. "Murphy, I'm so sorry."

I blinked. "Sorry? For what?"

"Look, Murphy, I'm just going to come right out and say it—we don't have enough information on what we're looking for to make an arrest."

I felt as if I was out to sea then, and that waves were crashing unmercilessly into me then, which somehow brought me back to life. "What?" I whispered.

"I'm sorry. At this point, we just have a suspicion, but he could easily clam up and weasel his way out of it. Unless with get a definitive confession, or some names attached to it, we can't make an arrest."

I shook my head. "You're kidding..."

Mason dragged a hand over his eyes. "I wish I was."

I breathed in then, knowing what my answer would be. "Okay."

Mason blinked. "Okay? What does that mean?"

I raised my eyes to his. "It means I'm still in this."

Mason shook his head. "Murphy, like I said last time, we can still get you out..."

I shook my head back at him. "I can't leave..."

"Because of your promise to Nicholas? Trust me, Murphy, we can get Tommy another way, I promise. Don't do this to yourself..."

"It's not just because of that," I replied.

"Then, what is it because of, Murphy?"

I raised my eyes to his. "It's because I'm in too deep as it is," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I know that I can do this—I can see it through to the end."

Mason sighed. "All right... What are you going to tell Tommy?"

"Same thing I told the doctors," I replied. "That he tried to fuck me and that he was too drunk and knocked himself into the table, causing bleeding an unconsciousness."

"Think he'll believe you?"

I shook my head. "I don't give a fuck if he believes me," I said quietly. "One way or the other, he'll eventually figure it out, and when he does, that fucking pussy will be running for the hills because of my ability to clock him so well."

Mason smirked. "You're sure confident about taking him down a peg, Murphy."

I smiled at him. "Confident?" I shrugged. "Well, if I'm being honest with you, Mason, on a good day, confidence is all I've got left." I dragged my hand over my face, getting to my feet and throwing away the disgusting hot beverage that was somehow acceptable for other people to consume, but not for me. "You bring any of your men along?"

"Yeah," Mason replied. "Why?"

"I need some air," I replied, "and I wouldn't want you to be left alone."

Mason smirked, getting to his feet. "I'll head out with you," he replied. "Air sounds soon."

I shrugged, turning around and walking out of the waiting room. "Suit yourself," I muttered, and headed outside, the cool night air filling my lungs then, and I felt a rare calm fall over me as I dug into my pockets and retrieved my pack of cigarettes. "Hey, don't judge," I said to Mason's raised eyebrows. "This job is exhausting, and pretending to be a guy who beats me every five seconds is not something I would wish on anyone, under any circumstances. This just helps me take the edge off…"

"I'm surprised you don't drink away your problems," Mason replied, watching me as I lit up a cigarette and put it into my mouth.

I shook my head, inhaling on the thing before taking it out of my mouth, blowing out the smoke after holding it in for a moment. "I'm an alcoholic. It's okay, you don't have to apologize," I said as Mason immediately looked uncomfortable. "My biological father has a pretty severe drinking problem, and so does my brother, Lip."

"The one that you have a complicated past with?"

My eyes snapped to Mason's. "How did you…?" I shook my head then, only half-surprised when a bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Fucking Nicholas," I said, sticking my cigarette back into my mouth. "Least he didn't give a fuck about it…"

"You saying that some people did?"

"My ex, before Nicholas," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "You remember Josh? You and your partner interrogated him and arranged for me to watch. Son of a bitch tried to kill me for the first time that day…"

Mason nodded. "Slippery guy, Fairfax," he replied. "I know Nicholas was really torn up when Josh fabricated that bullshit about kidnapping Iana…"

I smirked. "Hey, it couldn't have been all bad for him," I replied. "I realized I couldn't live without him after that shit went down…"

"That's what got you to realize it?"

"Well, that, and the son of a bitch shot me. Lost a kidney, too, but got a transplant within a year, so now, if I need to, I can run again…"

"You're a runner, then?" Mason asked.

I turned and looked over at him, surprised that Nicholas didn't tell him this. "Yeah," I said quietly. "I ran when I first figured out who I was. I thought about running when I realized that I was pregnant with Iana… And then, I ran again, after the accident with Josh, after he ran over Nicholas, when he pushed me out of the way…"

"You shouldn't blame yourself for that, Murphy," Mason said gently. "Nicholas made the choice to put himself in harm's way."

I sighed. "I was running before that," I replied. "Instead of facing the truth that our relationship was in trouble, and that we fell for each other, I ran. I didn't even try to fix things, Mason. And now, I turned the tables, telling Nicholas to run…"

"Needing space isn't a bad thing…"

I scoffed. "I ran to another state, Mason. And when I found out who I was, I ran to fucking Mexico. Jesus, what the fuck gives me the right to just…?!" I broke off then, jamming the cigarette back into my mouth and dragging my hands roughly through my hair.

"Murphy, don't do this to yourself…"

"Do what?!" I demanded then, my voice shaking. "Hate myself for all the fucked shit that has happened since I moved back to South Side?!"

"Murphy…"

"Don't," I said, shaking my head at him. "Don't try to tell me that everything's going to be okay if I just keep my head up, because that's fucking bullshit. And you know why? Because I'm a fucked up person, Mason. I'm totally fucked up."

"I don't think you're fucked up, Murphy. I don't."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I am," I said. "I'm fucked up. I'm fucked up because I allowed myself to fuck my own brother before I figured out who I really was. I'm fucked up because I ran to a foreign country, got drunk, and fucked my twin brother's ex-boyfriend, got pregnant, and fucking kept the baby, because I am so fucking stubborn. I let myself stay in a relationship where I didn't love the person, but did it because I thought I owed it to him. I fell in love with someone, married them, and had their children, but then I pulled away from them after my arrest, because I was suddenly aware of how much of a better person they were than I am. And then there's this whole mess with Tommy, where I'm literally serving myself up to him, day and and day out, hoping that my husband's name can be cleared, but for what? Nicholas doesn't fucking give a shit about me anymore, Mason. I don't give a fuck what you say; you weren't there that night when we met up again… So close, and yet so far away. We shared something that only two people who care so goddamn much about one another can share, and then he broke it off like it didn't mean shit to him, which, therefore, means I don't mean shit to him. But it doesn't fucking matter, right? Sooner or later, Tommy's gonna fucking kill me anyway…"

"Don't say that," Mason said, stepping closer then, each step filled with purpose, yanking my cigarette from my mouth as he took my face into his hands, his touch gentle as he cradled it. "I don't ever want you fucking saying that again, Murphy. Do you hear me?"

My breath caught in my throat then as I stared up at him. "I hear you…"

Mason's thumbs made contact with my trail of tears then, wiping them effortlessly from my cheeks as he stared into my eyes. "I'm so sorry for getting you involved in this. I shouldn't have let you, or I should've shut it down a long time ago…"

I shook my head at him. "It's okay," I said softly. "I wanted to…"

Mason sighed. "If I would've had to run away, and if you were my wife, there's no way in hell I would've run without you…"

I bit down, hard, on my lower lip. "What about your wife?"

"She left me," Mason said quietly.

I blinked. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Didn't want to distract from the investigation…"

I nodded. "Sure."

Mason hesitated then, his strong hands still cupping my face, taking care of the new tears which somehow managed to escape my eyes, despite his comfort. "You don't know how badly I want to kiss you right now, Murphy…"

I gasped a little then. "What?"

He sighed, shutting his eyes then, and rested his forehead against mine and, oddly, the gesture didn't offend me. "I can't do it…"

"Mason," I said, shutting my own eyes.

"I wouldn't do it…"

"Mason," I tried again.

Slowly, he released me then, lowering his hands momentarily to my shoulders and squeezing them gently for a moment before he stepped away from me. "Nicholas would never forgive me, Murphy, because no matter what you say, I know my best friend. You love him, as much as he loves you, and he'd never forgive me for kissing his girl, no matter what I might want," he said, his eyes filled with sadness. "I'm going to head back inside now," he said, as I struggled to gather my scattered thoughts. "Better check on Tommy… See you in there," he said, not looking at me again as he returned into the hospital building.

I stood there for a moment, attempting to formulate a coherent thought then as I considered the last several moments that had transpired between Mason and me. The thought process, in this regard, was not one I was familiar with. Mason's wife had left him; he was into me, for some odd reason; but he wouldn't let himself give in to his desires...all because of Nicholas? I shook my head then, refusing to let myself believe it as I took my carton of cigarettes out of my pocket, my hands shaking slightly as I lit another one.

"Loyalty," I muttered to myself, inhaling the poison into my lungs, and shaking my head at the warning label on the box itself, informing me that this product could kill me. "Oh, the irony… I just hope I live long enough to see this through," I thought aloud then, doing my best to finish the cigarette quickly before I moved towards the doors then.

The decision was clear, and I knew it, and it wasn't even a choice for me to consider. I knew what I wanted, as I had done for years, and I wasn't about to vary the tune now. As I stood beside the entrance then, knowing that, somewhere in that hospital, were two men who wanted me in two very different ways, I felt no regrets. No; I felt no regrets for knowing exactly what I wanted, and even though it was neither of those men, the notion that I knew what I wanted, and who I wanted, was very important to me, and, no matter what, I refused to give up. Smiling to myself, I opened the doors to the hospital, ready to face the music.


	10. Remember Our Last Goodbye

Chapter Ten: Remember Our Last Goodbye

I was shocked when Tommy believed me when I informed him of what had happened that night, and he didn't press the issue further. He wasn't overwhelmingly nice or mean as the weeks went by, but I didn't force the issue. All I wanted was a new normal to take place, one where he would be able to leave my life forever and rot in a jail cell somewhere for all the lives he and his cop buddies had ruined, including mine. I knew that, in order to get such a confession out of him that I had to back him into a corner—or just let him drink too much with his buddies—but I vowed that I would never have to be in another compromising position with him.

Mason had suggested deliberately provoking Tommy, as I'd done that night, because that might lead to a confession, if one of us inadvertently brought up his thoughts. I thought it may work, considering that I was building up my strength, and I was apt to have a sporting chance in a physical fight, if it came to that. I knew I was capable of doing such a thing, and even though it scared me, my overwhelming desire to have him out of my life for good outweighed my fear, so I knew it was entirely possible to do such a thing, on my end.

"Did you hear me?" I asked, raising my voice slightly then, not wanting to come off as too high and mighty, for that might tip the iceberg. I was standing in the kitchen on the first of April, and crossed my fingers that Tommy wouldn't think I was kidding around with him, as I washed the dishes from his breakfast. "Tommy? I said, 'Did you hear me?'"

Tommy sighed, lowering down his phone as he raised his eyes to mine. "Sorry, Murphy. What is it?" he asked.

I fixed a smile onto my face; in the weeks since I'd hit Tommy in the face, which had ultimately sent him to the hospital, I'd stopped biting my lips, which meant that they were nearly healed by now, and forced myself to eat, which meant I'd gained ten pounds. "I'm not going to keep going to that AA meeting across town," I informed him, my voice firm. "I'm going to go back to my old one, with Lip and Brad. I know them, and I'm more comfortable with them."

Tommy sighed. "That one is closer anyway," he said, shrugging as he returned to his breakfast and to his phone. "Do whatever you want."

I growled inwardly, slightly upset that he hadn't taken the bait of me "disobeying" him, but knew that it was good that I'd gotten my way on the matter. Shrugging it off, I made plans to text Lip while I was at work that day, knowing that he would be pleased to spend time with me, despite the unspoken argument between us about me telling Ian what was going on. While I knew that my oldest brother's heart was in the right place, I also knew that more harm than good could come of Ian's knowledge of the goings-on, so it was best if he remained separate from the equation altogether.

I lifted my cheek for Tommy to kiss before he left for work, indicating where I'd put his lunch in the fridge, and continued washing the breakfast dishes. I'd made myself a hardboiled egg and had eaten that to sustain me until lunch, which would be a salad from work. For dinner that evening, Tommy would be having chicken, while I would be eating some as well, with some dried cranberries on the side. In getting myself to eat more over the past week and a half, I'd felt significantly stronger and better on the whole, and I knew that I'd have the energy and strength to continue with this mission, and yet I hoped that it would be over soon.

Once I got to work, I greeted everyone with a spring to my step that hadn't been there in many months, but I didn't force the issue with conversation, and went back into my office, shutting the door quietly. I sat down at my desk, going through the stack of papers I'd left there the night before, and smiled to myself. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't seeing work as an escape from my life; rather, I was merely seeing it as a part of my life once again, and I hoped that such a thought would continue. It became warm in my office soon after I arrived, and I turned around and opened a window, the early spring air filling me with a rare amount of happiness and as I turned back to my desk, I got my phone out of my pocket.

 _The jailer consented_. _I will see you Friday_ , I texted Lip.

 _Can_ ' _t wait_. _I_ ' _m sure everyone will be glad to see you_ , Lip replied.

I placed my phone on top of my desk and leaned back in my desk chair then, staring at the ceiling and finding the calm that hadn't existed within me in such a long time as my eyes grew heavy and shut. Although I had yet to see the light at the end of the tunnel, I was finally under the impression that it existed. I told Mason that I had to be done with this entire operation by June, knowing that Tommy would hold me to the month of our intended wedding if he had anything to say about it. Reluctantly, Mason had agreed, knowing that he had many other resources to go through in order to somehow obtain a confession from Tommy. And even though I might not hold the key to getting the answer he wanted, Mason assured me that, above all things, he would keep my safe, because Nicholas was his best friend, and whether I wanted to believe it or not, he still cared about me, on some level...

"That's a good joke, Mason," I said, swirling the hospital hot chocolate in the paper cup, the night that I'd sent Tommy there.

Mason shook his head. "No joke."

I rolled my eyes. "You're crazy," I said, laughing.

Mason chuckled aloud then, sipping what must've been disgusting, cheap coffee. "My wife's called me worse," he replied.

I blinked, turning to look at him. "Has she?" I asked, knowing full well that Mason seldom mentioned his wife, in his desire to keep work and personal separate, which I respected, although I suspected that Mason should've given Mrs. Crowe more credit.

Mason laughed. "Yeah, she has."

"But still," I said, pointing at him with a grin. "You're crazy."

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's impolite to point?"

I felt my lips dragging themselves down then as I shook my head, fixing my eyes on a rather unimaginative watercolor on the opposite wall. "Never had a mother."

"No...?"

I shook my head. "No. My adoptive mother, Tina, was hardly worthy of that title. My biological mother wasn't worthy either, but she died before I found the Gallagher's."

"God, Murphy, I'm sorry..."

I sighed. "Don't be. Left me a note."

"That must've been comforting."

I laughed. "You would think so, if you didn't know what kind of person Monica was."

"Your biological mother?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"What'd she say? In the note?"

I shrugged. "Just that she thought Ian and me were identical, which therefore absolved her of any guilt for putting me up for adoption... She apologized, I guess, if you could call it that..."

"I'm so sorry."

I shook my head, momentarily forgetting the grossness of my drink as I lifted it to my lips again, gagging slightly as I forced myself to swallow it. "Don't be. I feel bad that my siblings had to put up with her at all."

"Hey, Murphy? Can I ask you a question?"

I turned and looked at him. "Yeah. Shoot."

Mason smirked slightly at that as he leaned back in his chair. "I've been wondering, ever since you consented to this mission, if you think you're unlovable..."

I sighed. "It's crossed my mind...more than once..."

He nodded. "And is that why you think I'm crazy?"

"Crazy?" I asked.

"About Nicholas?"

I nodded, lifting the hot chocolate to my lips and puckering my lips as I tasted it—it was watered down too severely and tasted gross. "Yeah, well, I mean... You know..."

"Murphy, you need to know that you're wrong."

"About?"

"About Nicholas's feelings for you," he replied patiently.

I shook my head. "Not wrong. Exactly right..."

"He still cares about you," Mason said gently, and I shook my head, turning away from him in a moment of vulnerability. "Can you just accept that? He thinks about you all the time, and is always asking how you are..."

"Please," I said, cutting across him then as I turned back and faced him. "I don't want to hear this, Mason. I can't."

Mason blinked. "Why?"

"Because I can't stand hearing about people that I've hurt, but love," I said quietly. "It just makes me feel completely unworthy..."

"You shouldn't feel that way, Murphy."

"Yeah?" I asked, leaning back in my chair. "Why?"

"Because you're unnecessarily hurting yourself."

I shook my head at him. "All this hurt is necessary," I replied.

"It's only punishing you, Murphy. You don't need to do this to yourself."

I felt my lips form a flat line then as I tilted my head back onto the wall. "I have to, Mason. This is a bed of my own making, and it's my job to lie in it accordingly..."

. . .

"My name is Murphy, and I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Murphy."

"This is my first time back at this meeting," I said, doing my best to stand up straight as I spoke into the microphone to the small crowd of people. "The reason why I haven't been to this meeting in a while is because my fiancée was uncomfortable because my brother actually goes to this meeting. He's easily threatened by people close to me, and so he didn't want me to spend a lot of time with my family members. But, I'm getting closer to a happy medium with him and, hopefully, things will be better in the future, making it easier for me to attend these meetings in a more comfortable environment. Thank you."

"That was a brave share tonight," Lip said, stepping outside to join me in the cool April air, and I smiled as I handed over my cigarette to him.

I shrugged. "It's what Mason recommends I tell people, publicly, anyway," I said. "He knows that you and Fiona know."

"And how's he feel about that?" Lip asked, inhaling deeply.

I sighed. "Well, you know, he says that I have to be sure you won't say anything. He wants to keep me safe, of course, but his first priority is this mission."

"Meaning what, exactly?" Lip asked.

"Meaning that if I end up dead, but we get the necessary information from Tommy, then it all works itself out."

"I thought that was a fucking joke, Murphy," Lip said, his tone hinging somewhere between rage and devastation.

I turned and looked at him. "What?"

Lip shook his head. "You dying. I thought that was all a big joke..."

I sighed, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder. "Nobody wants me to die in this operation, Lip, but of course it could come to that..."

Lip sighed, taking a long drag on the cigarette before handing it back to me. "God, I don't fucking believe this..."

"Believe it," I replied, holding the cigarette between my teeth for a moment before inhaling as hard as I could.

"Jesus Christ—we can't fucking lose you, Murph."

"It's not going to come to that, Lip, I swear."

"But you just said—"

"I said I could die, Lip, not that I was planning on it."

"I think I've heard all the bad things that could come out of this shit," Lip said.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeesh, Lip, for fuck's sake, you're honestly acting as if I haven't almost died before. I've had a pipe bomb blast in my neck. I've been held at gunpoint and shot by a crazy ex-boyfriend. And fucking Tommy beat me to the point where I saw a white light. I escaped death all those times, Lip. What's one more?"

Lip turned and looked at me then, stunned. "A white light?"

I nodded. "Yeah. A white light."

"The shit that everyone says they see before they die?"

I sighed. "Yeah. That thing."

Lip dragged a hand through his hair. "Jesus. I guess I didn't think it was all that serious."

"All of this is serious, Lip. One move from Tommy, and he could fucking kill me. Of course, this would mean life in prison—automatically, if the tapes could somehow get entered into evidence without it being judged prejudicial or entrapment."

"Wait. You think a judge would actually do that?"

I sighed. "If the side representing Tommy has them in their back pocket, yeah."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me right now..."

I shook my head at him. "I'm not kidding, Lip—about any of this. I didn't even need to consider the risks when it came to accepting this challenge from Mason, when I first told him everything about what had been going on with Tommy. He looked slightly surprised, but, like the rest of you, he could sense what had been going on from a mile away..."

"Didn't even need to consider the risks?"

I gave him a small smile then. "Of course not. The kids are with Ian, and my will stipulates that he or Fiona will get them in the event of my death, so they're taken care of, and safe. With Nicholas completely out of the picture now—no matter what the outcome of what happens with Tommy—all I know is, I'm prepared."

"Prepared to die?"

"Yeah, if it comes to that."

Lip shook his head. "You know, that'll never happen."

I scoffed. "Yeah, why?"

"Because I'd never let you die, and Ian would never fucking let you either. Just the thought of anything happening to you drives him over the edge. Even now."

I laughed aloud. "I doubt that, seriously, Lip—"

"No, I mean it," Lip replied, cutting across me, his voice firm, which cut my laughter instantly as I stared up at him.

I raised my eyebrows. "You serious?"

He nodded. "Despite everything, and how pissed he's been at you this past twenty-three months, Murphy, he's still worried as fuck. He fucking loves you—you guys are twins. You can't sever that bond, no matter how hard you've been trying."

I shake my head at him. "I'm not trying to sever shit."

Lip sighed. "I know you're not, Murphy, but try and picture it from his point of view. He's fucking devastated because he's convinced that his twin sister and best friend is being used as a personal punching bag by her significant other. And, let's face it, you are."

I sighed. "I know that. But I can handle it now."

"Because you know it's over?"

I shook my head, stepping closer to him then. "I made a deal with Mason."

"A deal?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I replied. "Basically, I told him that all this shit has to be finished by June, no questions asked."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that even if we haven't gotten the answers we're looking for, I'm free."

Lip looked shocked. "Really?"

I nodded, swallowing slightly then. "Really," I replied. "They'll lock him up for domestic violence and offer him a deal if he confesses to all the shit he's pulled."

Lip shook his head. "Think it'll be enough?"

"You can get good time for domestic violence—"

"I don't mean that," Lip replied. "I mean, can't they torture him?"

I made a face. "He's not a prisoner of war, Lip. There are rules."

Lip scoffed. "Screw rules, Murph! He's almost killed you! You said so!"

"Hey," I said, stepping close to him then and taking ahold of his shoulders. "I am not going to let him kill me—that, I can promise you. And once this shit is over, I'll tell everyone everything—no pulling punches. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to tell Ian—you can't sever the bond between twins, Lip; you're right about that."

Lip sighed, leaning down then and resting his forehead on mine. "This is so fucked up, Murph. I hope you realize that."

I laughed aloud then, reaching around his neck and resting my arms around it. "I fucking know that, Lip," I said, shutting my eyes for a moment, remembering how to breathe again. "But I'm doing better..."

"I know," Lip replied, putting slight pressure on my shoulders then. "You're starting to gain weight again. I didn't want to bring it up unless you did..."

I laughed again, opening my eyes then and pulling back slightly, but Lip pulled me in for a hug, and I felt comfort in his embrace. "It's okay—you can bring it up," I reply. "It's about ten or so pounds now—closer to where I was, once upon a time..." I broke off then, relaxing in his arms, and allowing myself to feel safe, at least for the moment. "Look, Lip, all I know is, that this has to come to an eventual end. And, I promise, once it does, you can say whatever the fuck you want in the courtroom, if they ask for character witnesses."

"You better believe I'll say whatever the fuck I want," Lip replied, not letting me go. "I want Tommy to rot in jail for life for all the shit he put you through..."

"Well, with your help, that'll be even more possible," I said quietly.

. . .

I did my best to put on a brave face for Easter, two weeks later, knowing that, now that I had Lip in my corner, the day would go far more smoothly. Stepping inside, I was relieved to see that Lip's reports that Allie and Hugo had picked up Iana and the boys to spend the day with them had proved correct, so there would be less drama because of that. Tommy went into the kitchen, where Ian was preparing a ham with V's help that I would somehow have to choke down, and helped himself to a beer. Lip was handling the potatoes, and Debbie was setting the table, while Kev was watching T.V. with Liam and Franny.

"Frank around?" Tommy asked.

"Upstairs," Lip replied, his tone clipped. "He'll probably be down soon."

"You bring the pies?" V asked conversationally, and I nodded, holding onto them.

"Got every flavor Lip said everyone wanted," I replied.

Tommy opened his beer bottle effortlessly, standing in the back corner by the door and sipped it slowly, all the while Ian glared at him, and Tommy, sensibly, decided to ignore it. "Ham looks delicious, V."

V smiled tightly; while she didn't know all that Lip and Fiona knew, she was not a stupid woman, and she firmly stood by the rest of my family in their suspicions against him. "Thank you, Tommy. It should be good."

"Got the pies?" Debbie asked, coming into the kitchen, and I raised my eyebrows, surprised that she was even speaking to me.

"Yeah," I said, showing them to her. "Right here. All baked last night."

"Took her time with those, too," Tommy said, crossing over to me as Debbie considerately took them from me, and put an arm around my shoulders, which still managed to make me jump. "I was about to call some of my buddies to track her down..."

"Don't you—" Ian began.

My eyes immediately flashed to Lip then, who immediately interrupted Ian.

"Ian, careful—don't forget V's maple brown sugar glaze," he said.

Ian glared at Lip. "How could I forget?" he asked, taking a second culinary paintbrush and proceeding to dab at the other side of the ham.

"And my family has arrived!" Frank boomed then, entering the kitchen. "Tommy, my body—oh, already helped yourself to a beer, I see," he said, sashaying over to the fridge and getting one for himself. "Let's join the men folk, and Franny, by watching the game!"

"Don't need to tell me twice!" Tommy said, and clapped Frank on the back as they made their way in the living room.

"How can you stand it?" Debbie hissed.

Ian shook his head. "I don't."

"That goes for me, too," V put in.

"Cool it, all of you," Lip said immediately. "Just trust Murphy in this, please. She knows what she's doing."

"Dude, I'm right here," I said, crossing my arms. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I can speak for myself, you know."

"If that were the case, you wouldn't be in this shit!" Ian hissed.

"Shut up," I said, immediately looking towards the living room, but was relieved to see that Tommy was fully absorbed in the game. "All of you. I know you love and care about me and I'm fucking grateful for it, because I love you guys, too. But can't we just have one holiday get-together where we don't raise our fists to solve a problem? Please?"

"Baby!" Tommy called out from the living room, and I fixed a smile on my face before I turned over to look at him.

"Yeah, Tommy?" I asked.

"Need another one," he said, waving the now-empty beer bottle at me.

"Me, too!" Frank called, his voice a merry song.

"Coming right up, guys," I said, fetching four bottles from the fridge, knowing that they could easily go through two quickly. I stepped into the living room, holding out the two bottles for each of them.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Frank said.

I nodded. "Sure, Frank. No problem."

"Two for the price of one!" Tommy cried out then, already buzzed, thanks to the two beers he'd had before we left the house.

As I turned away then, Tommy reached out and smacked my ass, hard, and I let out a small yelp of surprise and slight pain, as I did my best not to overtly comment on it as I stumbled back into the kitchen.

"I need some air," Ian said, dropping the paintbrush and heading outside.

"Jesus," I muttered, heading outside after him. "Ian," I said, going down the stairs two at a time and grabbing ahold of his shoulder, which he promptly yanked out of my grip. "For fuck's sake, it's fucking Easter. Can you just not—?"

"No, Murphy, can you just not?!" he demanded, whirling around to face me, his eyes filled with hurt and pain.

I doubled back then, shocked at his expression. "Ian—"

"No," Ian said, shaking his head and turning away from me.

"Ian, please," I said then, my voice gentle. "I'm not going anywhere, that I can promise you. I know that this all looks really bad, but you need to understand that I've got a good reason. I wouldn't subject myself to all this if it wasn't for a good reason..."

"You shouldn't be subjecting yourself to this at all," Ian said through his teeth. "I don't give a fuck what the reason is, Murphy—Tommy has no right to treat you like this."

I shook my head at him. "Ian, please—"

"Murph, come the fuck on!" he shouted at me, and I deliberately looked away from him—I could no longer take the hurt and pain in his expression or his voice. "He's fucking beating you! Tell me he's beating you! Tell me!"

"Don't!" I said, turning to look at him then, my voice trembling. "I need you to stop with all your fucking suspicions, Ian, please! There are things at play at here that you can't fucking understand, and I need you to trust me here! I know I ask you for a whole hell of a lot, but you need to know that I wouldn't do this if it weren't absolutely necessary! I'm just asking you to trust me here, please," I begged him, and, at the moment our eyes locked, I could sense something pass through us then, and Ian was literally telling me that he could feel my pain, whenever Tommy put his hands on me. "Ian..."

Ian shook his head at me. "I know you must have a good reason," he said quietly, "I know that, deep down. But... Lip fucking knows, right?"

I sighed, my shoulders dropping then. "Yeah," I replied. "Lip knows..."

"Jesus," Ian whispered, dragging his hands through his head. "Who else fucking knows?"

"Fiona," I said quietly.

"For fuck's sake," Ian said, shaking his head at me. "If they fucking know, why can't you fucking tell me, too?"

I shook my head at him. "You know why..."

"Obviously, I don't, Murph. Otherwise, I wouldn't be fucking asking you."

"Because you're too important to me," I said then, my voice trembling. "You're too important, Ian, and I know goddamn well that if you knew the truth that you'd..."

"I'd what?"

"That you'd do something fucking stupid, like get yourself thrown in jail," I said, shaking my head at him, hating myself for telling him this. "I won't let you do that, not for me. Not after all the shit I've pulled..."

"Murph, do you think I give a fuck about all that?" he demanded. "Because I don't! You could pull anything, do anything, and it wouldn't fucking matter to me! And do you know why? It's because you're fucking family, and we all fucking love you!"

I sighed, shaking my head. "Ian, I'm sorry," I whispered, knowing that I needed to say something—anything—even if it was the truth. The time had come and, perhaps, he would forgive me for keeping my mouth shut about it. "You see, the truth is—"

"There you are!" came a shout from behind us then.

Turning, I saw Tommy doing his best to stumble down the stairs towards us, Lip immediately exiting the house and following him. I remained where I was, standing near Ian, unknowing as to what Tommy would do, drunk like this. I'd seen him drunk before, there was no question, but all those times, we'd been alone. I wondered if, now, that we were surrounded by my brothers, if the rules were now different...

"Tommy," I said, finally forcing myself to step towards him. "You okay?"

Tommy stumbled towards me then, taking ahold of my wrist without hesitation and dragging me towards him, so that I was plastered, lengthwise against him. "What have you been doing out here, Murphy?" he asked me then, my nostrils filling with the scent of alcohol, his speech slurred. "You haven't been telling secrets, now have you?"

I shook my head at him, fully aware of Ian's eyes boring into my back. "No, Tommy. Of course not...but you're crushing me..."

"With love," Tommy said, letting out a burst of laughter then, making no moves to release me from his grip. "Just crushing you with love, pretty Murphy..."

I laughed sarcastically then, and attempting to get out of his grip. "Yeah, yeah," I said, trying to keep my cool. "Okay, Tommy..."

"Trying to get away, are we?" he asked, laughing again, but I could detect the anger, hidden behind his eyes then as he yanked me towards him again, leaning down to kiss me. His lips tasted of alcohol, and although I did my best to keep them firmly closed, Tommy forced his tongue between them, and I did my best to push against him.

"Tommy!" I cried out then, swinging my head back, just out of his reach, staring up at him, my eyes pleading. "Don't do that!"

Tommy glared at me then, the happiness of his drunkenness gone, and although I could sense the discomfort from Lip and Ian—as well as myself—I knew that it would've been better, for me, at least, if I'd continued to attempt to play nice. "You don't get to tell to stop, Murphy," he growled then, crushing me against him to hard that I cried out. "That's not part of this."

"Hey!" Ian shouted then, stepping forward, only stopping when Lip shot him a look.

"I wouldn't want to have to punish you on Easter of all times, Murphy, especially in front of your brothers," Tommy said, a dark chuckle escaping his lips, likely from drunkenness. "I wouldn't want to spill your pretty blood all over the pavement..."

"Tommy, don't," I said, my voice trembling as I struggled against him at full-force then—he hadn't beaten me to a pulp since I'd refused to get my tattoo on my chest removed, and I wasn't about to let it happen again. "Tommy, let go. Come on. Go and walk it off, or sleep it off, or something, I don't care. Just let me go, and stop making shit up—"

"I'm not making shit up," Tommy growled down at me then, his nails digging into my back, which caused tears to fill my eyes. "Not like you did when you told the cops that I passed out drunk and knocked my head into the table. I could've told them what happened that night, that you fucking hit me, when all I was doing was taking what was mine—"

"Tommy, stop it," I said, proceeding to thrash against him. "Let me go, now—"

"But, I didn't, because who would believe that a decorated cop would just sit by and let his little fiancée beat on him?" he asked me. "Of course, some people would think I deserved it, based on all the shit I put you through..."

"Tommy," I begged, trying to pull away. "Stop..."

"You don't even love me," he said, still digging his fingers into my back. "I know you used to love me, Murphy, I know you did. But you never say it..."

I swallowed the bile that threatened to creep up my throat then. "Tommy, don't say things like that, please. You're drunk..."

"Don't tell me I'm drunk!" he shouted. "Never say that to me, Murphy! Ever!"

"Tommy, please," I said, trying to turn submissive on him, in an effort to get him to stop this. "I am literally begging you, let me go and stop this..."

"Tell me you love me, Murphy."

I shook my head at him. "Tommy—"

"Tell me you love me!" he shouted. "Fucking tell me!"

"Tommy!" I yelled, pushing against his rather beefy frame. "Let me go and I'll say it! Just let go of me, please!"

"I'm not letting you go," Tommy growled, crushing my arms in his grip. "If I let you go, you'll leave me, I know you will!"

"Tommy, you're being crazy—"

Tommy smacked me full across the face then, releasing me as he did so. "Don't you ever call me crazy, you fucking—"

I was suddenly aware that Tommy wasn't speaking anymore, and when I finally trusted myself to look up, I saw that Ian had tackled Tommy, and was slamming his fists repeatedly into his face, and I screamed then, shooting to my feet. "Ian! Get off of him!" I yelled. "Lip! Get him off of him!" I cried out.

Lip hesitated for a moment, looking as if he wanted more than anything to join Ian in a beatdown of Tommy, but finally saw through the red. He dove into the fray then, yanking Ian off of Tommy and holding him against him. "Chill," he said, gripping onto Ian as Tommy lay there, bleeding, on the back lawn. "You need to chill, Ian. You need to chill."

"Tommy," I said, crawling over to him and carefully moving him onto his back. "Tommy, you need to turn over so you don't choke..."

"I know what to do," Tommy sputtered then, spitting out blood onto the grass.

I looked up then, my cheek still inflamed from Tommy smack, and slowly got to my feet. "Let him go, Lip," I said, and hesitantly walked towards Ian. "Ian..." I said.

Ian yanked away from Lip then, glaring at me. "Please tell me this is as bad as its gotten," he said, his voice begging.

I sighed, knowing that I owed him something. "I can't tell you that."

Ian dragged a blooded hand through his hair. "Can't or won't?"

"Ian..."

"Guess I have my answer, then," Ian replied, shaking his head as he stalked past Lip, up the stairs, and back into the house.


	11. Truth, Justice, and the American Way

Chapter Eleven: Truth, Justice, and the American Way

"You need to tell him, Murphy."

I stood outside the church where the AA meeting had been held, with Lip, on the first Friday in May, each with our own cigarette that night, leaning up against the brick wall. "Yeah, I know I need to tell him, Lip."

"Well, then why don't you?"

I sighed. "You know why."

Lip smirked. "Murph, come on. Don't give me that bullshit response of how complicated everything is. I know you want to tell him."

I shook my head, inhaling my cigarette. "It's not about not or not wanting him to know, Lip, and I think you know that."

"Look, he already knows..."

I sighed. "He suspects. He doesn't know."

"His suspicions were confirmed on Easter."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, I can handle myself, Lip."

Lip smiled. "I know you can."

I turned and looked over at him, my eyebrows knitting together. "Yeah?" I ask him, trying and failing not to smile. "How could you possibly know that?"

Lip sighed, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder. "I've always known that about you, Murphy, like it or not."

. . .

" _So, you're Scarlett?" said a voice as I lifted the drink to my lips and, as I looked up, I saw the delicious specimen Kevin had been speaking to earlier._

 _I nodded. "Yeah, that's me," I replied, putting out my hand. "Scarlett Davies—nice to meet any of Kevin's friends."_

" _I'm Lip. Lip Gallagher," the guy replied, smiling at me. "Nice to finally meet you. Kevin's been going on and on about you for days."_

" _Can't think why—he's got Veronica to keep him on his toes," I say, catching his eye and raising my drink to him, and he smirks at me, catching our line of conversation. "But anyway, it was nice of Kevin to let me earn some cash before my official job starts."_

" _Official job?" Lip wants to know._

 _I nodded. "Yeah. I'm—well, I'm going to be—a criminal lawyer at Blomqvist, Sampson, and Torrance downtown," I replied. "A junior one to start out with, but I've just gotten my Master's Degree, so I'm all set."_

" _Master's Degree?" Lip demands, clearly in shock. "Fuck! How old are you?"_

" _Twenty-one," I reply with a grin, lifting my glass again. "Graduated high school at fifteen. I skipped fifth, sixth, and seventh grade."_

" _So you're some kind of smart girl, then?" Lip wants to know._

 _I laughed aloud at that. "I don't know about 'smart'," I reply with a shrug. "I mean, I'm certainly being dumb right now..."_

" _Why? Because you're talking to a stranger?"_

 _I look up at him, our eyes meeting again. "No," I reply, finding that my voice has quieted down for some reason. "No. Because my stepfather is a hepatolgist."_

" _Should I know what...?"_

 _I giggle at him. "No, but yes... Um, it's a doctor and they specialize in the gallbladder, pancreas, liver, and biliary tree, and how you can manage a disorder in any of those," I tell him. "As far back as I remember, Dr. Normal always went on and on about the dangers of drinking and how you could fuck up your liver for the sake of a good time."_

" _Dr. Normal?" Lip asks, trying not to laugh._

" _Dr. Norman Court, my stepfather," I reply, dragging my finger on the surface edge of my martini glass._

" _You didn't like him?" Lip guesses._

 _I look up at him. "I neither liked him nor disliked him. I mean, he did pay for my college preparatory high school, and for my books and supplies all the way up to college graduation, but he didn't love me. Only his boys."_

" _And your mom?"_

 _I shrugged. "Made the boys her main priority as soon as they were born."_

" _So, that's how you became a genius, then?" Lip wants to know. "By bad parenting?" he asks, a small smirk developing around his mouth._

 _I nodded at that, pleased that someone finally seemed to understand as I raised my glass. "To bad parenting," I say with a laugh._

 _Lip touches his beer bottle to my glass. "So, I take it you're not from Chicago originally? We have a distinct accent..."_

 _I laugh. "Uh, yeah, actually. I am from here originally."_

" _Really?" Lip wants to know._

 _I laughed. "Yeah. My mom told me when I got the degree that I was adopted. I already accepted the position out here so I left Seattle and came back home, so to speak."_

" _What are you looking for?"_

 _There was nothing in the question; there was something in the question. Now that it was posed to me, I found that there were difficult answers that lay beneath. The warning bells that should have gone off in my mind at unveiling so much about myself to a total stranger were strangely silent and, for once in my life, I didn't want to be normal. I wanted to take risks and talk to strangers and try new things and, just once, allow myself to get close to someone without the added fear that they, too could hurt me._

" _A new life," I replied, not knowing what else to say._

. . .

"You came here looking for a new life, Murphy," Lip said, the plume of smoke on his cigarette escaping into the night air. "You think you found it?"

I scoffed, inhaling on my own cigarette before removing it from my mouth. "I think you know the answer to that question."

Lip smirked. "Humor me, then."

I laughed. "If I can. How?"

"Confirm or deny it. Fully."

I sighed, looking up at the sky, the sunset permeating what was left of the day. "Yeah," I said quietly, I found it.

Lip followed my gaze. "You like it?"

"Who wouldn't like something like that?" I asked him, sticking the cigarette back into my mouth. "It's beautiful."

"It's funny..."

"What is?"

"Ian always liked sunrises, but you like sunsets... I've always wondered why that was..."

"I think it's because Ian was born first, for his case," I said quietly.

"And for your case?" Lip asked.

I smiled a little then. "I always like the ending of something, versus the beginning of it." I shrugged slightly then. "I don't know. You know me—I only got a minor in psychology, and like I always said, I never liked to get too close..."

"I think you could handle it now."

I sighed. "I think maybe you're right."

"So, you going to tell him?" Lip asked as I dug into the pocket of my jean shorts, and finding a text from Tommy. "You going to tell Ian?"

I sighed, hastily texting Tommy back and making quick work of finishing my cigarette. "Not tonight," I replied, smashing what was left of it with my shoe.

"But soon?" Lip asked, catching my arm.

I turned around. "What does it matter?"

Lip sighed. "It's only because Ian thinks he's losing you."

I smiled at him then, pulling him into my arms for a hug. "He's not gonna lose me," I said, and allowed myself to stay there for a moment. "None of you are gonna lose me."

. . .

I was at work two weeks later looking over the upcoming summer ordering, when a strange number call my cell phone. Thinking it was some weird overseas call, I was tempted to let it go to voicemail, until I remembered that I knew someone overseas, somewhere, at least. I reached out then, grabbing ahold of my phone, just before it had the opportunity to go to voicemail, and swiped the green phone icon.

"Hello?" I asked into it.

"Murph?" said the familiar voice, and my heart thumped in my ears. "It's Carl."

"Carl?" I cried out then, my jaw dropping at the notion that my sibling—whom I loved dearly, but, nevertheless, was least close to—was reaching out to me. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he said, obviously not spilling all the beans, but pushing past that. "The post is going fine. I'm due to come home soon."

"Really?" I asked.

"Unless I re-enlist," he replied.

I nodded. "Right..."

"Listen, Murph, I'm sure even I don't need to say that we've never exactly been...close," he said, hesitation peppering his tone, almost as if he didn't want to hurt my feelings. "I mean, you know that, right?"

I laughed a little then. "Yeah, Carl. It's okay. I know."

He sighed. "Well, just hear me out on this, okay? I mean, I'm still your brother, and of course I love you..."

I nodded. "Yeah, Carl. Thanks. Love you, too."

"So, you'll hear me out?"

"Of course," I replied. "Your my brother. And I won't forget you sticking up for me with fucking Frank that time. Trust me. I'm listening. Everything okay?"

"It's not with me, Murph. It's about you."

"Oh," I said, knowing what it was about before he even said it.

"You know why I'm calling?"

I sighed. "Yeah, Carl. I know."

"Someone tip you off?"

I shook my head. "No, considering I'm not really talking to much of the family right now, I wouldn't really receive a tip-off..."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah, it's pretty bad," I replied.

"So, it's true, then?" he asked then, the hesitation drifting back into his voice then, and I knew then that, when Carl got home, I would need to make an effort to get closer to him, so that he wouldn't constantly feel as if he was walking on eggshells constantly when talking to me. "Is Tommy beating on you?"

I sighed. "Carl, you really shouldn't trouble yourself with—"

"Murph, please," Carl said then, his voice firm. "You said you'd hear me out. Please. The service has taught me a thing or two about keeping my word."

I nodded. "Okay, Carl. Talk."

"I don't want you getting smacked around, Murph," Carl said quietly. "No matter what you might think about yourself, you don't deserve it."

I raised my eyebrows. "No matter what I might think about myself?"

He sighed. "I know I was never around much when you got there, and I'm sorry for that. But the point is, I've seen Ian at his worst, and I saw you at your worst. I don't want that happening again, Murph. Ever. Because you're my sister."

I leaned down on my desk then, cradling my forehead in my hands. "Thanks, Carl..."

"So, Murph, am I right? Is he beating you?"

"Not at the moment," I replied, my tone noncommittal.

"Come on, Murph..."

"What?"

"I know how bad it can get for Ian," he repeated, his tone patient. "I know that it could get that bad for you, too..."

"Carl..."

"We'll all be there for you, Murph. We're family..."

I sighed. "It's all a misunderstanding..."

"Abuse never is," Carl replied. "I don't believe the bullshit that there's some fucked up underlying issue. You don't deserve it."

I shook my head. "Carl...please."

"I know it could get bad again," he said quietly. "And, even though it would be really bad for everyone, especially you, if it did, I know that Ian would be there."

I nodded, attempting to see through the veil of my tears. "He always is," I replied.

. . .

" _Hey, rise and shine!" came Ian's voice as he knocked on my door, opening it and merely standing in the doorway. "Murph?"_

 _I found myself automatically opening my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. It was as if my brain just switched off my voice command system, thus rendering me speechless._

" _Murph?" Ian asked, sitting on the bed and touching my shoulder. "It's close to noon. What are you doing still in bed?"_

 _I didn't move to answer him; I didn't even move._

" _Murph, this isn't funny. If you're playing a game here, please, don't."_

 _I found myself scooting away from him then, his hand falling off my shoulder and onto the bed behind me._

" _Murph, really," Ian said, getting up and circling around to face me, and I avoided his eyes. "I can see that's something's up. What's wrong?"_

" _I don't want to talk," I replied, and was shocked that my voice was devoid of any emotion whatsoever, something very odd._

" _What?" he asked, his voice sounding nervous. "Murph, you don't mean that."_

" _I do. Just... You can go," I said, staring at a portion of the cheap carpet which littered the floor of my bedroom._

" _Fine. If that's what you want," Ian replied, sounding reluctant as he moved around my bed and walked out of my room, shutting the door behind him. From the other side, I heard him sigh heavily, and then I heard Trevor's voice._

" _What's up?" he asked._

" _I..." He hesitated then. "I need to call Fiona."_

" _Why? Everything okay?"_

" _No," Ian replied, and I heard their footsteps receding in the other direction, as Trevor continued to pepper him with questions._

. . .

"I want the truth, Murphy," Ian said for what must've been the trillionth time since he barged into my office, unannounced, three days later. "I want the truth, and I want it now."

I lowered my eyes. "I can't give you that, Ian. I'm sorry."

"Murph, please," he begged. "I need to know—"

"No, Ian, you don't need to know," I replied, looking up at him. "You may want to know, and I understand your desire of wanting to know, but I really can't tell you."

Ian shook his head at me. "Jesus, Murph. Please tell me that he hasn't fucking brainwashed you into thinking that this is some sort of sick love relationship..."

"Trust me," I replied, my eyes never averting from his, "I've hardly been brainwashed."

"Well, you certainly seem stronger," Ian said, almost as if he hated to admit it. "You're almost the same size you were when you first showed up here in Chicago... If you would just stop looking so sad..."

"I am sad, Ian. I've never made an attempt to hide my sadness."

"You did, in the beginning, with Tommy..."

I sighed. "Yeah, maybe you're right..."

"Just don't stand there and try to tell me that everything with Tommy is fucking great and all sunshine and roses," he said. "Please."

I shook my head. "I won't. Promise."

"Just tell me... Is it bad?"

"Not as bad as it used to be. It used to be pretty bad."

"You were going to tell me, on Easter," Ian said quietly, and I looked away from him. "I know you were."

I bit my lip. "Yeah, I was," I replied. "But after seeing what happened, when you went after Tommy like that, I can't tell you anything. Not until after it's over."

"Murph, please," Ian said, stepping forward then and closing his hands on my arms, so much so that my eyes snapped to his. "He hasn't tried to kill you, has he?"

"Ian..."

"Oh, my god," Ian said, letting me go then, horror in his face. "He has."

"He hasn't tried to—" I began.

"Whether or not it was an accident doesn't fucking matter to me!" Ian shouted. "Is that why you sent the kids to live with me, Murph, and gave me custody? Because you were afraid he would beat them?!"

I felt my eyes filling with tears then. "Beat the boys and do god knows what to Iana!" I shouted then, before I could stop myself, and immediately covered my mouth.

Ian looked horrified. "He didn't—"

"No," I said, my voice raw as I slowly lowered my hands from my mouth. "No. Not to Iana or the boys, thank god..."

"But to you?"

I shook my head. "Just forget about it, Ian. Please. I'm begging you, forget about it. I'll never ask you for anything again if you just forget it."

Ian scoffed, shaking his head at me. "Don't fucking talk to me again until you fucking throw Tommy out on his ass," he said, looking disgusted with me as he moved to leave.

"Ian..." I said, my voice breaking as I moved after him.

"Don't," he said, knocking my hand out of the way as I tried to reach for him.

"Ian, wait—"

"No," he said, his voice close to breaking as he did his best not to look at me. "I can't do all this anymore, Murph. Not with you."

"Ian, please, don't—"

"I have to protect those kids," Ian replied, dashing the tears from his eyes, and finally allowed himself to look at me, his face riddled with a pain that I'd never seen before. "I have to protect those kids because you can't. Congratulations, Murphy—you're Monica," he said, narrowing his eyes at me and slamming the door behind him.

I stumbled away from the impact of Ian slamming the door then, turning and looking around my office for a moment. There was a bud vase atop a filing cabinet—one that hadn't been filled since Nicholas had been in my life—and I grabbed ahold of it then. I held it in my shaking hands for a moment before I threw it with all I had at the door, screaming as I did so. I dragged my hands over my face then, looking down at it, thinking about the irony of the scattered pieces, and knowing it was like looking into a mirror of my life as I bent to pick them up.

. . .

I felt as if someone had punched a huge hole inside my chest, and I did my best to focus throughout the rest of the work day. However, by three, I couldn't take it anymore and decided to call it, leaving my office and heading out to my car. Tommy was working a double, and wouldn't be back until the following evening. I walked towards my car, remembering all my defining moments within it—going after Josh when Ian, Fiona, Lip, and I thought he'd kidnapped Iana; after Halloween when Nicholas told me that he had bought us the house; and when I came clean to Debbie about Mickey being Iana's biological father.

I pushed the good memories from my mind, wanting to be placed firmly under a little black raincloud where I belonged for all eternity. I unlocked my car and got inside, slamming the door behind me and gripping onto my steering wheel, remembering the days when I could drive to the diner and ask Fiona for advice. Now, I was the big Gallagher sister in South Side who owned the diner, but now Debbie wouldn't even come near me, and I deserved that. As I gripped my steering wheel, I let out another scream then, which echoed on the walls of my car, and rested my head on top of it, the tears coursing down my cheeks.

Dragging my hand over my face, I decided to push myself out of my funk, and turned the key in the ignition, pulling carefully out of my space. Pulling into the line of what I assumed was after-school traffic, I made my way down the street and towards a stoplight. Going easily into a breaking stop, I drummed my hands on the wheel, waiting for it to change. When it finally did, I continued down the street, going a few blocks before another red light stopped me. I looked around then, seeing a pawn shop on the block next to me, something hitching inside me then as I turned on my directional, and parked on the street beside it.

Getting out of my car, I slammed the door and locked it up, putting my purse on over my shoulder as I made my way over to the pawn shop doors. Stepping inside, I caught a whiff of sweat and stale cigarettes, pushing the gross images from my mind as I looked around, until I saw what I was looking for. As I stepped forward, the burly, bearded man behind the counter smiled at me, his mouth nearly full of golden teeth, and yet I remained impassive, not wanting to be fucked with.

"How much for a gun?" I asked.

The man looked a bit surprised. "What kind of gun?"

"That black 85-Combat," I replied, nodding to one close to the center of the display behind him in the lockbox.

"That piece?" the guy asked, turning around. "Five hundred."

"Sold," I replied, always keeping some emergency cash inside my purse, and got out five hundreds for him. "This cover it?"

The man's eyes nearly bugged out. "Uh, yeah," he said uneasily, turning around and unlocking the case and tentatively handing it to me.

"And the bullets?"

"Five bucks a round," he said.

I handed his twenty bucks, and he returned a five to me, handing over the bullets and the gun, which I put into my purse. "Thank you very much," I replied, smiling tightly at him and turning and walking out of the place.

I felt a little nervous, walking back towards my car, for I was literally carrying an unlicensed gun on my person. However, jail would prove to be a much sweeter place than where I was now, and even though my mission was far from over, I knew that, if push came to shove, I needed to defend myself. I would prove that, once and for all, I was not the timid mouse that Dr. Normal had attempted to shape me into; I was a woman, who had the capability of being strong, and I needed to hold onto that, I thought to myself as I drove home.

Once I arrived, I felt relieved when I saw that Tommy's car wasn't parked outside, and I knew then that, somehow, he trusted me enough not to unexpectedly change his schedule. When I got out of the car and walked up my walk and inside, I went to the master bedroom and to the closet, which held the safe, filled with my passport and the emergency cash that Nicholas had left me, I placed the gun inside. Faster than lightning, I locked up the safe, knowing that Mason and some of his cop buddies could've seen my actions, but I didn't fucking care. All I wanted to do was get out of this alive, and nobody was about to stop me.

. . .

All was quiet for the next month, and I couldn't have asked for anything better. Tommy seemed to be slightly afraid of the notion that Lip or Ian would spill the beans on his treatment of me, so the son of a bitch hadn't touched me since Easter. That meant no unnecessary pawing at me and demanding sex; no trying to hit me whenever I disagreed with him; nothing whatsoever. And, in return, I didn't back-talk, and just calmly stated my point of view to him, no matter what the subject, and Tommy seemed agreeable to that.

One night, when there was a big game—the last of the season, apparently—Tommy invited over his cop buddies for a big game blowout. I, of course, had had to take off work early to accommodate the men, and get all of Tommy's favorite snacks and prepare his favorite dips and foods and to make sure he was happy. The portable cooler that we'd bought recently was in the living room, filled with dozens of Old Style bottles, and he and his cop buddies were laughing and drinking and eating, and were, thankfully, in a pretty good mood.

I spent most of my time in the kitchen, shoving dishes in the dishwasher or washing some of the bigger things I'd used to cook in. Tommy didn't mind that football didn't interest me—or any sports in general—and was content to have his little woman in the kitchen. Whenever he shouted for me, however, I was expected to leave my task as quickly as possible, and go in there to make sure that they were all taken care of. Finally, I'd finished the last of the dishes, and turned on the dishwasher—which was very full, by this time—and washed my hands. I lowered my eyes to the apron Tommy always insisted that I wear—it was a policeman's wife's uniform, and I couldn't wait for the day when he was out of my life for good, and I could burn it.

Slowly, I crept to the edge of the kitchen, which led to the living room, and peered around the wall so that I could see the men. Their eyes were all glued to the flat screen, and they shouted happily when their team scored a touchdown or some shit. I rolled my eyes; I never understood these games, and, hopefully, I never would. When the commercial came on after the 'sick play', Tommy muted the T.V. and grinned at all his buddies. They still hadn't noticed me, and I didn't even want to begin to think what would happen if they did.

"Who's it this time?" Tommy asked.

"Harry Ambrose," one of his buddies—Vince Newton—answered. "Apparently, he robbed a shit ton of convenience stores when he was a kid. Did community service or something. Now, he's got a wife a three kids. He doesn't deserve that."

"He's a lowlife," said Nate Peterson. "We'll get him."

"Sure we will," Bernie Karrows put in. "Just gotta put in a phone call to that judge, David Fox, and then we've got him."

"Just like all the others we've got," said Milo Savage.

"Who was your favorite, Tommy?" asked Vince, who had to have been the closest to Tommy out of all his buddies. "Of everyone we got, I mean. Which one was the most worth it?"

Tommy grinned. "Nicholas Blomqvist," he said, without hesitation.

"Shit," Milo said.

"Wasn't that your girl Murphy's ex?" Nate asked.

"Sure was," Tommy replied.

"Why was it worth it so much?" Bernie asked. "You've fucked married women before. What made Murphy so special?"

"She fucking loved the son of a bitch," Tommy replied, shrugging it off like it was nothing. "I tried to get into her pants, on more than one occasion."

"How?" Vince wanted to know.

"Told her I loved her, and kissed her a couple times," he said. "Little priss wouldn't give it up to me, because of her damned loyalty complex or some shit..."

"But you go her," Milo said, fist-bumping Tommy.

Tommy grinned. "You're damn right I do. Got her right where I want her, too," he said, satisfaction dripping from his voice as they game came back on, and he took the mute off the flat screen, and all of them turned back to watch it.

I pulled myself back into the kitchen then, so that none of them could see me, the game blasting in the living room, and I crossed my fingers in the hopes that Mason could hear me as I looked up and around at the ceiling. "Give me twenty-four hours," I begged him, hoping that there was a camera in the kitchen. "Just give me twenty-four hours, please," I said, my voice shaking, and my heart thundering in my ears. "After all the shit he's put me through, I need my own taste of revenge," I said, and smiled to myself, knowing that the day had finally come, and that I was, at last, almost free.

TO BE CONTINUED


	12. Everlong

Chapter Twelve: Everlong

I found myself staring up at Tommy then, wondering what I'd supposedly done to deserve this hand which had been dealt to me. The last year—nearly two—of me being with this man had been an elaborate fabrication to keep me away from the man I'd always loved, and would always love, and the weight of the engagement ring on my finger suddenly meant nothing to me. As fast as I could, I ripped it from my hand, staring at Tommy with such hate then—more than I'd ever thought possible for one person.

"Murphy, don't you dare—!"

"You are never to tell me what to do ever again," I said, speaking through my teeth as I threw the engagement ring at him, clocking him right in the cheek, but not even taking a moment to rub the momentary satisfaction in his face. "How could you do this to me? To my family? Are you fucking crazy Tommy?! Why would you—"

"Because I'm in love with you!" Tommy said, advancing upon me then, bending over only to pick up the ring, whereupon he took me by the shoulders. "From the moment you were arrested almost three years ago, I needed you..."

I tried and failed to yank myself back from him. "This is not love," I growled.

"It is love—" Tommy began.

I shook my head at him, cutting him off. "I was a married woman, Tommy... And from that day, you were abusive. My family tried to get me to see reason, but I wouldn't, because of my predisposition to attempt to see the good in people... Dammit, I hate that I'm so fucking stubborn that I couldn't see that, and I had a wonderful husband..."

"You really think I gave a shit about any of that?!" Tommy asked. "I managed to get those charges back on Nicholas's record, which made him want to run. Do you honestly think that I would've made lieutenant if I hadn't done that?"

"Sergeant first," I muttered, finally managing to pull away from him completely, "and you only made lieutenant because your boss was shot in the line of duty, and you were next in line. Don't even try to flatter yourself right now."

Without hesitation, Tommy reached out then and backhanded me across the face. "You do not disrespect me in my own house, Murphy."

I looked up at him then, tossing my hair back from my face so as I could see him clearly, and feeling the fury bubbling off me. Other than Frank and Dr. Normal, I'd vowed never to let another man hit me, and I wasn't about to fall back into old habits—no, I was fully prepared to fight him off if need be. "You'll recall that this is my house, Tommy," I said, my hands itching to hit him back. "You name isn't on the agreement—just mine, ever since Nicholas left."

Tommy checked himself then, almost as if he regretted hitting me. "Stop all of this, Murphy; stop it right now. Just...put the ring back on..."

"No," I said, stepping away from him. "I am not going to marry you. Not only are you a liar, Tommy, but you're an abuser. You may have only hit me once just now, but you've beaten me to a fucking bloody pulp hundreds of times since we first got together. I should've seen the signs from the beginning, but goddammit, I thought you would change, and I thought I could be the one to make you change..."

Tommy crossed his arms. "There's nothing fucking wrong with me, Murphy..."

"You shut the fuck up right now, because there is a shit ton wrong with you, Tommy," I replied, on the offensive. "Systematically cutting me off from my family, and limiting my time with my children. For years, I said I wouldn't become Monica, and now, I've successfully become my own worst nightmare. But that's what you really wanted, isn't it, all this time? For my entire family to reject me, and for my own children to turn against me, so that I would just go to work and come home and fucking feed you every night, and then fucking let you use my body for your own personal gratification? Well, you have another thing coming, mister, because this, all of this, ends right here, right now. I will never be with you again—you took Nicholas from me, and I'll never forgive you for that. I will bring him back into my life, and, if he still wants me, I will have him for my husband again, because it was always him, Tommy, and it will always be him, and I'll never forgive myself for taking so long to realize that."

Tommy made a grab for me again, and I did my best not to cry out when he put pressure on my arms—one false move, and he'd be breaking them. "You're going to be my wife, Murphy. So help me, if you back out now—"

"You'll what?!" I fired back, the rage suddenly coming in full-throttle as I yanked myself away from him, my arms smarting from his meaty hands. "You really wanna dance with someone like me—with a Gallagher? Well, come on, if you really have the balls!" I yelled, sucker-punching him in the face without hesitation, and Tommy immediately fell to the floor. "You like hitting women, huh?!" I shouted, smacking him again and again, until he was a whiny pile of tears on the floor, succumbing to his worst fear—having a woman best him. "You need to get the fuck out of my house, Tommy."

Tommy peered up at me through his fingers. "But, my stuff..."

"I will take the liberty of packing your shit," I replied, reaching down and hauling him up by the collar, whereupon I escorted him to the door, where I may have accidentally knocked him repeatedly on the walls on our way there. I opened it then, wanting to throw him out onto the lawn of dead grass, ready to be rid of him, once and for all, but I dragged him close to me for just one moment, and spoke through my teeth, not shitting him. "And don't you ever think about coming back, you fucking asshole," I said, trying my best to keep my voice calm before I threw him as hard as I could away from me. "You stay the hell outta my life, Tommy."

Tommy stumbled to his car, and I smirked to myself, waiting until he was clear around the corner before I shut and locked the door behind me. I stood there for a moment, in my living room, realizing that, for the first time, I had nothing to fear. I let out a scream of exultation then in the first time in I don't know how long, before I wretched the door open then and stared outside at the morning light. Feeling free for the first time in a long time, I immediately ran across the street, towards the old place, and let myself in the front gate. I ran through the yard and up the stairs, hammering on the door like there was no tomorrow, and felt instant relief when Ian answered the door.

"Hi," I said, breathless.

He raised his eyebrows. "Jesus, Murph. Why the red cheek?"

"Oh, that thing," I said, deliberately touching it with my left hand, which did not go unnoticed by him. "Well, you should know that Tommy's gone."

He raised his eyebrows. "Gone?"

I nodded. "Gone. G-O-N-E. Gone!"

"Why?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.

I sighed. "Tommy framed Nicholas," I replied, and his eyes widened. "He framed him for everything—brought him up on old charges from a former record that should've been expunged a long time ago."

"Why would he do that?" Ian asked.

"Because he wanted me," I said simply, still hardly believing it myself. "He wanted me, and he would stop at nothing to get to me. I only heard him and his cop buddies talking about it, and I recorded the whole thing. But I'm done with him, Ian, and after he raised his hand to me one too many times, I gave it to him, and gave it to him good."

My twin raised his eyebrows. "Gave it to him?"

I laughed. "Yeah—whaled on him like there was no tomorrow, after throwing the ring in his pathetic face. He used the system to get to me, Ian, and used it against us all. I'm so sorry I told you to take the kids, but Tommy..." I shook my head. "He wanted our own family, and I feel sick that I just let him make that choice for me...but I needed to protect them, I did..."

Ian crossed his arms. "You need to apologize to them."

I sighed. "I know," I replied, the tears pricking at the backs of my eyes. "I did something I'd vowed I'd never do, and that was leave, like Monica. I'm not Monica," I said, my voice shaking then as I considered all I had done. "I'm not Monica, I'm not..."

For the first time in the near two years that I'd been with Tommy, Ian finally saw that I was returning to myself again, and he immediately reached out and pulled me into his arms. "Hey, hey, I know you're not," he told me quickly, holding me to him, and I vowed not to pull away or to leave anything out of the story—it was time for the truth to finally be told. "What do you want to do?" he asked.

"After I apologize to the kids, I am going to find my husband," I replied.

"Mama?"

I broke away from Ian then, my heart becoming raw as I took in my daughter then—it was so hard to believe that she was seven-years-old, and I couldn't even begin to imagine how Ian coped, having a carbon copy of a perfect blend of me and Mickey around. "Hi, Iana," I said gently to her, hoping that I was getting it right.

"Hi, Mama," she replied, and I felt myself smiling automatically at this change. "The twins are in with Liam," she went on, putting out her hand.

I stepped into the house then, kneeling in front of her. "Honey, I need you to understand that sometimes Mama gets sick sometimes," I said quietly.

Iana's brows knitted together. "Sick?"

"Like I get sick, Iana," Ian put in, kneeling beside me. "Like, sometimes I just want to be alone for a while, and I can't talk about it. Remember?"

Iana nodded. "I remember."

"Mine was pretty bad this time," I said softly to my daughter. "This sickness made me believe that my children weren't the most important things to me in the world. I was so sick that I only saw Tommy, sweetheart."

Immediately, Iana narrowed her eyes at the mention of Tommy. "Tommy is a son of a bitch, Mama. Uncle Ian says so," she said quickly, turning to Ian.

I raised my eyebrows and turned to my brother. "Really?" I asked, and Ian immediately looked away from me. "Look, I'm in total agreement—it's the colorful language that I have an issue with, here, Ian."

He nodded. "Understood," he replied.

I sighed, turning back to my daughter. "Sweetie, I need you to understand how much I love you, and how sorry I am, and that I'll do everything in my power to have you and the boys forgive me, and I'll work until I die to do that."

"Mama, I love you," Iana said softly. "If you were sick, you need help, and I know you'll get it when you're ready. I forgive you," she said.

I was filled with so much relief then as Iana dove for my arms and just held onto my neck, and even when I went to go and see Clayton and Fionn, wouldn't let me go, not for a minute. It was almost heartbreaking, then—seeing how beautiful they all were, and how put-together they were all acting. As I looked up at the sound of the back door opening then, my mouth formed into a smile when I saw Lip standing there. I excused myself from my children's sides and ran to him, throwing my arms around him.

"What's all this?" he asked, hugging me back.

"He's gone," I said breathlessly. "Tommy's gone," I went on, pulling back, "and I'll really need a meeting after the last two years I've had..."

Lip grinned down at me. "You name the time and the place, and we're going, Murph. Whatever you need, we're all here for you."

"I know you are," I replied. "And I'll tell you everything, soon. I just need to see Debbie right now, before I forget..."

"She's outside with Franny," Lip replied. "Just getting some sun..."

I nodded, squeezing his shoulders for a moment. "Listen, I know I royally fucked up everything, but Tommy, he..."

"I know he was beating on you, Murph. And if Ian's not gonna kill him, then I will."

I smiled. "That won't be necessary, trust me," I told him.

"Good," Lip replied, squeezing my wrist, and when I winced, he rolled up my sleeve, getting a good look at my slashed wrist for the first time. "Tommy do this?" he asked through clenched teeth as he stared down at it.

I sighed. "Yeah."

"Son of a bitch," he whispered.

"Hey, all in good time," I said firmly, brushing past him and opening the back door of the kitchen, stepping through it and out into the sunshine, where I saw Debbie running after Franny on the lawn below. "Debs?" I asked, my voice deliberately tentative as I walked down the steps towards her, recalling our last huge interaction was when I offered her money not to tell anyone about Tommy's abuse.

Debbie immediately caught Franny then, looking concerned. "Franny, go inside and see your cousins," she said gently.

"But Mama, it's Auntie Murphy—" Franny protested.

"I know, honey," Debbie said gently. "But Mama and Auntie Murphy have to talk. Go inside now, sweetie. Please."

"Fine," Franny huffed, trudging up the stairs and shutting the door behind her.

I stepped forward, walking up to my sister. "Look, Debs, Tommy's gone," I said, and she raised her eyebrows. "The long and the short of it is, yeah. He did beat me—I had to go to the fucking hospital once because of it."

"Jesus Christ," Debbie whispered.

I sighed. "He's gone now, Debs. For good. I can't believe I let it get this far, but you should know that I sent the kids to live here with Ian for their own safety and protection."

Debbie nodded. "I can understand that."

"And as for the rest of it, I stayed with Tommy solely for the purpose of a sting operation," I said, wanting to get as much of this off my chest as possible.

Debbie blinked. "A sting operation?"

I nodded back at her. "Yeah. For Nicholas."

"Nicholas?"

I smiled. "Yeah, for Nicholas. The long and the short of it is, he didn't leave me because he thought I'd cheated on him. I've never cheated on him, Debs—sure, I got engaged to Tommy and let him pull shit, but it was never me, because my heart wasn't in it. I want my husband back, and I did all of this for him because..."

"Because you love him?" Debbie guessed, smiling for the first time.

I nodded at her. "Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I do."

Debbie sighed, closing the distance between us and yanking me at full-force into her arms, and I could feel the tears flowing down her cheeks. "Dammit, Murph..."

"I know," I said, holding her against me. "I'm so sorry about everything..."

"Why didn't you just tell us?"

I sighed. "The less people who knew about it, Debs, the better."

Debbie pulled back then, shaking her head. "But we're fucking family..."

I nodded. "You're right—we _are_ fucking family, Debs. But the last thing I wanted was for Tommy to come after all of you to dig for information. I know you all fucking hated him, Debs, but he's a fucking cop, and he could've..." I shook my head. "You don't even want to begin to know what he's capable of."

Debbie searched my face then. "Murph?"

"You name it, he did it," I replied. "I can't tell you how many bruises I got around my boobs, all because of Nicholas's name being tattooed there. Can't tell you how many times I was punched, kicked, spat upon...raped..."

Debbie looked horrified. "Tommy, he...?"

I nodded. "Countless times, Debs. I didn't want him touching me, but I had to let him believe that I would just take it. One false move, and the entire operation would've been completely fucked up. I couldn't let it, Debs. I had to save Nicholas."

"Does he know about this?"

I shook my head. "No. And I made him sign divorce papers to try and convince Tommy that I was serious about getting married..."

"Did you sign yours?"

I sighed. "No. No, I didn't. But it probably doesn't matter anyway, Debs. He's probably found someone else, wherever he is..."

Debbie looked confused. "Don't you want him back?"

I smiled a little then. "I don't know if it matters, Debs. Besides, after all the shit I pulled, just to clear his name, maybe he wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't what?"

"Want me," I replied. "Who knows? Maybe that ship has sailed..."

. . .

"So, you got their forgiveness," Ian said, as we sat in my living room later that night, after burning what remained of Tommy's belongings and having brought all my children's things back into their rooms. "Now what?"

I sighed. "Scour the internet like a madwoman until I find my husband," I replied, the water bottle cold beneath my fingers. "I really fucked everything up, Ian—maybe things would've been better if I'd gone with him..."

"You couldn't have done that to the kids," he put in.

I sighed. "No, but at least I wouldn't have abandoned them," I replied, hesitating for a moment before taking a swig of my drink. "Guess there's a bit of Monica inside of all of us... We can't escape our pasts, but we can go forward and look to the future."

"Do you want Nicholas in your future?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"Do you still love him?"

I shook my head. "I don't fully know that either," I said quietly, leaning forward, my shoulders hunching as I recalled the last two years. "I only said it to Tommy a handful of times, and that's just because I was afraid of what he'd do to me..."

"So, he hit you, then?"

I gave a stiff nod. "Fuck yeah he did," I said, turning to look at him. "But don't you dare go doing anything about it, Ian."

Ian looked shocked. "You're not seriously going to let him get away with it, are you?!" he demanded then, his voice angry. "Because that's bullshit, Murph..."

I bit my lip. "Not forever," I replied, my voice automatically reassuring him.

"How long, then?" he asked, his voice deadly serious.

I found my mouth forming into a hard line then. "I've got plenty of hidden evidence around the house if I have a mind to turn him in. Don't worry."

Ian gave a stiff nod. "And Nicholas? How will you track him down?"

"The last time we spoke was when I got him to sign the divorce papers," I replied, my cheeks flushing automatically as I remembered that evening, automatically running my hand over the slash marks of my tattoo.

Ian reached forward then, rolling up my sleeve and getting a good look at my arm, his dark eyes filling with rage. "Did that son of a bitch do this?!"

I gritted my teeth, yanking my arm back from his grip. "Ian, please. It's dead and gone and in the past now. Just drop it, please..."

"This is bullshit," Ian said, shaking his head slightly, the pent-up rage threatening to exacerbate itself. "What the fuck happened during these last several months, Murph?"

"A whole lotta shit," I reply. "But, when I last saw Nicholas, I had to get in touch with an old contact of his, Mason Crowe, who work as the sergeant of Human Trafficking. He helped set this whole sting in motion to get rid of Tommy, if need be... If I call him, he'll probably have a lead of where Nicholas is."

Ian smiled, although I could still sense the bitterness within him. "So, do you still have the number?"

"Programmed into my phone since the day I got it," I replied. "If there was one thing Tommy swore he never looked at, it was my phone. He may have been a son of a bitch, but I mainly used the thing for work and he knew he wasn't to tamper with any of my contact information, because it could've been one of the diner employees calling, or someone from AA, if I still went to the meetings, of course..."

"Call it," Ian said quietly. "It's only nine, and cops never sleep."

I sighed. "Let's just be glad he's not a friend of Tommy's," I reply, setting my water bottle on the coffee table in front of me before pulling out my phone. I find the number and press it with my thumb, putting it onto speaker as we mutually hear the rings.

"Sergeant Mason Crowe," said a voice on the other end.

"Mason?" I said tentatively. "It's Murphy."

"Hey, there Murphy," he replied. "What can I do for you?"

I did my best not to sigh so audibly at the title before I continued. "As I'm sure you saw, I kicked Tommy out of the house today," I blurted out in a rush. "Just finally got the information we needed and I couldn't hold out anymore... I can't... I need my husband back in my life," I said, hating myself for allowing my voice to break. "I'm probably the last person he wants to talk to, Mason, but I need him..."

"Hey, Murphy, it's all right," Mason replied, his tone slightly awkward. "I still have Nicholas's post information."

I blinked, catching Ian's eye for a moment before looking back at my phone. "What...? Post information?" I said, shaking my head. "I don't understand..."

"He's working for us in exchange for an expunged record," Mason explained. "Luckily, I've got my guys working on it, so there'll be no room for error this time around."

I blinked, not at all surprised that Nicholas wouldn't tell me a thing like that. "Where exactly is this post, Mason?" I whispered. "Tell me. Please," I said, my voice breaking.

"Hollywood," he replied.

"Oh. Florida?" I guessed.

"No. California," Mason said carefully. "I'll send you the hotel where he's staying, although he probably won't be there."

"Wait. Why wouldn't he be in his own hotel room?" I demanded. "Is this some kind of sick joke or something, Mason?"

"No joke," Mason assured me. "He likes to spend his time in the Sonoran Desert, just thinking and walking around."

I blinked, locking eyes with Ian for a moment as I processed the information. "Okay," I said, somehow knowing what I had to do. "Thank you for the information, Mason."

"Good luck, Murphy," Mason replied, cutting the call.

"So, what are you going to do?" Ian asked.

I weighed my phone in my hand for a moment before I opened up my internet app, and instantly pulled up flight prices. "I'm buying a ticket there," I said without missing a beat. "I'll even bring the kids—"

"Murphy, slow down for a moment," Ian said, placing his hand over the screen of my phone. "If I give you three days, is that enough?"

I blinked. "Enough for what?"

"Enough to get your husband back, if that's what you want?"

I sighed. "It'll have to be... Why?"

"I'll have the kids for another three days," Ian said gently. "You go and get your missing piece, and I'll hold down the fort."

Immediately, I jumped across the couch and threw my arms around him. "I don't deserve you, Ian," I said softly. "After all the shit I've pulled..."

"It's been an adventure," Ian replied, holding my close, and, for a moment, it was like old times all over again. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

I pulled back then, locking my eyes with his. "I'm going to get back your missing piece, Ian. I mean, once all my shit is figured out..."

Ian sighed. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Murph."

I smiled at him then, inclining my neck and kissing his forehead. "Those days are over, Ian. For good this time."

. . .

With my flight booked, I was pleased when Ian suggested that he drive me to the airport with the kids to see me off. They all said goodbye to me in turn, and, while I didn't say outright where I was going, I knew that Iana would somehow attempt to figure it out. Her brown eyes taking me in as I kissed them all goodbye, I could see the determination behind her eyes, and it was almost as if I had Mickey Milkovich staring back at me.

"Be careful, Mama," she said softly.

I nodded. "I will be, baby. I will be."

The four and a half hour flight was taken up by me mentally writing out what I was going to say to Nicholas, before discarding the plans and starting again. I was not the same twenty-one-year-old he had met, that day in Allie's office; I was twenty-eight now, the same age Fiona had been when I'd walked into all their lives. So much had happened to me, to my family, that had shaped us all, and now, perhaps, Nicholas would have stopped wanting me. After callously demanding that he sign the divorce papers, I saw now as I'd never before seen that I'd lost a part of myself whilst being with Tommy, and now, as I flew over the United States, I was seeking to get a part of myself back.

Once I arrived at the airport, I dragged my small duffel bag from the overhead compartment and waited for the plane's crew to give permission for us to leave. Finally, we were given permission and I hurried through the airport, going to the rent-a-car lot and picking a Prius with a reliable GPS system, figuring out that it would take me around three hours to get to the desert, but, even if I was there, there would be no guarantees that Nicholas and I would find each other. Even though all the signs said not to drive past go, I was determined to find my husband once and for all, and to put an end to all of this.

As I got onto the highway, I pressed the button on the radio, nearly swearing aloud when Dolly Parton's voice filled my ears, _9 to 5_ blasting on the speakers. Shaking my head, I turned down the volume, but nevertheless tapped the beat into my steering wheel. Thinking of it as neither a good nor a bad omen, I continued in this fashion until I arrived on the outskirts of the desert, and shut off the music, wanting to drive in silence. I drove for nearly an hour, until I saw another car and hoped against hope that this would be a good thing.

I got a good look at the car, watching it steadily for a moment before looking out at the open field beside the road, seeing a lone figure standing there. I got out of my car, hoping that the person wasn't armed, and slammed my door behind me, tucking my keys into my pocket. As I walked into the field, the outline of the figure becoming more pronounced, I sucked in my breath then as I got a good look at its shape. The height and build were the same, and I would know my husband's shape anywhere.

As I got closer, my sneakers barely making any sound on the ground I walked on, the figure seemed aware that someone was behind them. When, suddenly, they whipped around, a silver gun in their hand, I threw up my arms, hesitating only to remove my sunglasses. The long ponytail I'd put up my hair in didn't seem to want to stay, and a sudden rush of wind tore it from my hair, my copper locks flowing past my shoulders and framing my face.

"Don't shoot, Nicholas!" I called out to him, my voice threatening to tremble with a sudden onset of emotion. "Don't shoot! It's me! It's me!"

Nicholas stared at me then, stunned, before he dropped his gun, not averting his eyes from mine as I stood there before him. "Is it you, Murph?" he asked.

Tentatively, I took a step closer. "It's me," I whispered.

Nicholas still looked dumbstruck, and yet I could not contain myself then as I walked with purpose the rest of the way to him, not hesitating for a moment. As I walked, I felt my heart hammering in my chest, almost as if it was awakening again inside me, and my insides were dancing in a moment of anxiety and exultation that I'd found him. Tremors began all over my entire body, and all I could think about was the notion that Tommy was out of my life for good, and I needed him...

Nicholas remained rooted to the spot, watching me in shock as I walked speedily over to him, and yet he caught me up into his arms as soon as I'd approached. "Murph..." He said quietly, just staring at me for a moment.

I said nothing, staring down at him from my high point in his arms, before I leaned down and kissed him, wrapping my legs around his torso, my tongue exploring his mouth, and feeling immediate relief when his darted up to meet mine. A mutual moan of longing escaped from both our lips, and as I pulled back—slowly, reluctantly—I felt my lower lip trembling as he held me there, aloft, in his arms. "I'm sorry," I breathed. "So, so sorry..."

He continued to stand there, holding me, staring up at me, almost as if he was numb from the notion that I was actually there. "Fuck apologies," Nicholas whispered.

I pulled back completely then, bracing my palms upon his broad shoulders as I stared down at him, completely shocked. "What?"

He grinned up at me then, throwing me over his shoulder with a yelp from me as he walked back to his car, which was a sleek-looking, black SUV. "You're in trouble now, Murphy."

"I—what?!" I demanded.

He unlocked the trunk of his car, setting me down onto it, almost as if daring me to make the next move. Immediately, I dragged him in behind me, breathing heavily at the implications as the trunk slammed automatically behind him as we knelt, facing one another for a moment. I felt my hands trembling then, itching to reach for him, wanting him to touch me so badly, as we looked at one another in silence. However, the moment didn't last and he began ripping at my clothes, and I did the same to his. Automatically, I turned around and lay on my stomach, wondering if this was the kind of punishment he was referring to, but Nicholas reached out then and flipped me over, pulling down my jeans until he slipped so deliciously inside me, and I felt my eyes rolling back into my head.

"I want to see you," he whispered against my neck, which made my entire body feel tremors that I hadn't felt since December, when he signed the godforsaken divorce papers. "I want to see you when you come, and I want you to scream my name like you used to..."

"Oh...my...god!" I screamed, when he touched that familiar spot which made my toes curl, not needing to be told twice. "Oh, my god, Nicholas!"

"I know... Oh, fuck, Murphy..." He groaned, his voice hoarse, in my ear. "It's all uphill from here, Murph. It's gotta be all uphill from here..."

. . .

I vaguely heard the sound of some kind of bird the next morning, which woke me, and I sat up in the back of Nicholas's borrowed SUV. The windows were tinted, presumably for protection purposes, so I couldn't tell what time it was, as I'd left my cell phone in my own rented vehicle, a few yards away. Nicholas had always been a heavy sleeper, so it was no trouble disengaging my body from his, and crawling over to the trunk, which I opened, and perched upon the edge of the back of the car.

I sat there for a moment, the morning sunrise illuminating my naked body in a color scheme of orange and pink, and I peered at it, shielding my eyes for a moment before they adjusted. I felt a wave of calm come over me then, as I sat there, in this little section of the desert, with my husband, and felt my heart pounding once again. I reached backwards then, fumbling for my bra, panties, top, and shorts, and yanked them all on, unknowing how heavy the traffic was along this portion of the desert.

I made a grab for my sneakers and sunglasses, putting them both on, before fishing in my pocket for a hair tie, which I used to bind my hair up into a long ponytail. Hopping down from the SUV, I explored the immediate terrain, finding solace in it, much like Nicholas had likely done since he'd gotten here. Putting my hands into my pockets, I avoided the cacti that surrounded the area and easily made my way around them, watching the brilliant sunrise over the horizon.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Turning, I saw Nicholas just at the edge of the SUV, a few feet behind me I nodded then, lifting up my sunglasses and giving him a smile. "Gorgeous," I replied. "I can see why Mason said you liked it out here. It's quiet."

Nicholas blinked. "You talk to Mason?"

I smiled slightly then. "How else do you think I managed to find you?"

He sighed then, leaning back against the van, trouble brewing in his eyes. "Murph, don't take this the wrong way, but...why are you here?"

I sighed, biting my lower lip. "Look, I know it's strange to have your wife just randomly show up here out of the blue—"

"Ex-wife," Nicholas replied, his tone bitter, running his hand through his hair as he stalked past me then, exasperated, and while I knew he had every right to be, his tone stung. "I signed the fucking divorce papers just like you wanted..."

"Nicholas, please," I whispered. "I'm so sorry—"

Nicholas continued speaking then, almost as if I hadn't responded to him. "I mean, let's face it, my gut told me that there was someone else, but I didn't want to believe..." He broke off then, staring at me, and I saw the torment behind his eyes. "Dammit—why didn't I ask you any of this last night?" he asked, and I knew the question to be rhetorical.

Nevertheless, I shrugged. "I don't know," I replied. "I guess old habits die hard, Nicholas. We just can't seem to keep our hands off each other..."

"But we're not married anymore, and there had to have been someone else..."

"One of those is right, and one of those is wrong," I said quietly.

He raised his eyes to mine. "Spare me the theatrics, Murphy. What are you talking about?" he asked, wanting a straight answer.

I sighed. "There was...someone else," I replied, and Nicholas turned away automatically, a cry seeping forth from his lips, the anguish being carried into the air and off into the horizon, and my heart broke at the notion that I'd hurt him. "He and I..."

"Was it that son of a bitch, Tommy, who started all this?!" he demanded, turning back to look at me, his eyes ablaze with anger and sadness. "Tell me, Murphy."

I sighed, but nodded, hating myself for hurting him again. "Yeah, yeah, it was Tommy. I can't tell you how sorry I am..."

"Is that where all the bruises came from?!" he demanded, his voice a whip.

Deliberately, I looked away from him, hoping against hope that, in the darkness of his borrowed SUV, he'd managed to miss them. "Jesus, Nicholas..."

"So, it's true?" he demanded, trying very hard to contain himself. "The rat bastard lured and stole you away from me, and then beat you?! And what about our kids, Murphy?! Did he beat them, too?!"

I shook my head. "No. No, he didn't."

"How the fuck couldn't he have?!"

I raised my eyes to his, the picture before me muddled with my unshed tears. "He made me give them to Ian."

Nicholas looked shocked. "What the fuck do you mean, 'He made me give them to Ian'?!" he said, his voice strained.

"He wanted the possibility of our own family, so he suggested the kids move in with Ian," I said in a careful tone. "I did things when I was with him, Nicholas, that I never would have done if all of this hadn't happened."

"So, you blame me, then, do you?"

I shook my head. "No, of course not!" I burst out then, and he looks surprised that I have seemingly lost my temper. "No, I don't blame anyone but myself. I was so fucking stubborn, and I refused to get help, and it spiraled, to the point where I was so dependent on Tommy. He slowly stripped away the years of self-confidence that I'd built up, Nicholas, and dragged me down to the point where he convinced me that he was all I had, and that nobody in this world would ever love me the way that he did. I was forbidden to see the kids or my family without his permission, or suffer the consequences."

"What was the worst thing?" Nicholas asked. "Other than losing the kids and contact with Ian, and the rest of your family?"

"That was the worst of it emotionally," I replied. "Physically, it was worse."

Nicholas inclined his head. "What he do to you?"

Slowly, I rolled up my sleeve, revealing the arm with my family tree tattoo on it, which, while drunk, Tommy had repeatedly slashed with a broken beer bottle. I remembered the blood seeping through my fingers and onto the floor, as I'd raised my eyes upwards, imploringly at Tommy, mutely begging him to stop. His slimy voice filled my head then— _There_ , _now I_ ' _ve cut them out of your life for good_ —and I shut my eyes, trembling then as I vaguely heard Nicholas stepping forward, his fingers tentatively touching my inner wrist.

His fingers traced the slash marks, and I shuddered at the sensation of his touch. "That fucking asshole," Nicholas growled.

My eyes shot open. "Yeah," I replied. "That fucking asshole."

Nicholas locked his eyes with mine. "Mason tell you?" he asked, and I cocked my head to one side, not fully sure of his meaning. "Mason tell you that I've been working as an informant, and that Tommy's my latest assignment?"

I shook my head. "He told me where to find you, and what you've been doing, but I never thought someone would finally go after Tommy..."

Nicholas nodded. "Well, someone has to."

I broke away from him then, walking over towards my car, and fishing the keys out of my pocket, diving into the passenger seat for my duffel bag. Unzipping the outer flap, I took out the flash drive—which held the incriminating recording of Tommy's schemes on it—and turned around, holding it in my hands, Nicholas staring at me. I crossed back over to him, and slowly handed it over, my hands trembling.

"I went through hell and back to get this," I said quietly.

"What is it?" he asked, taking it into his hands.

"Tommy scheming with other cop buddies about all the lives they've ruined," I said, my voice shaking again at the prospect of Tommy getting what he deserved.

He raised his eyes to mine. "How come you have it?"

"Security cameras," I reply. "I had them installed when Tommy wasn't around, and paid in cash so he'd never find out."

Nicholas nodded. "And why do you have it now?"

I shrugged. "Couldn't risk it getting into the wrong hands," I replied. "But now, now that I've found you, I figure it could work...as a piece offering..."

He turned it over in his hands. "Yeah?" he asked. "How?"

"We're not divorced," I replied, reaching into my pocket and withdrawing my wedding ring in my shaking fingers, which Ian had courageously hung onto for me. "I never signed the papers, because when the abuse got so bad, I wanted leverage against Tommy. It was stupid—he could have easily forced my hand—but it was enough to keep him at bay, for a while. And then, as time went on, I just couldn't sign them..."

Nicholas took all of the information in then, his eyes widening. "So, you're telling me you're still my wife, then?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, still holding the ring between my fingers. "I've always been your wife, from the day after that Christmas, when we got married."

He nodded. "I see."

"Of course, I'd understand if you'd want me to sign the papers," I whispered, knowing that, despite everything, if he wanted me to get the hell out of his life, I would understand. "It's been a long time, and we can plead temporary insanity from last night," I said, forcing my voice not to tremble as he raised his eyes to mine.

"What are you saying here, Murphy?"

"I'm saying, I'd let you go, if that's what you wanted," I said softly.

"And what do you want, Murphy?"

I sighed. "Does it matter?" I whispered.

"Of course it matters!" Nicholas thundered back, stepping forward and holding my face carefully between his two hands. "It always mattered what you wanted, Murphy."

I shook my head, lowering my eyes. "After everything..."

"After everything, if we can still make it, I'd say we're one of the strongest couples there ever was," Nicholas replied.

I licked my lips then, looking away from him then, my eyes filling with tears as they splashed down my cheeks. "The truth of the matter is, Nicholas, that my heart wasn't in the whole thing with Tommy..."

"What are you saying?"

I turned my gaze onto his. "I'm saying that I had a hunch that he knew more than he was letting on about your old record coming to light," I replied. "So, I used my feminine wiles to get him to open up. Unfortunately, it took far longer than I expected, and, let's just say that he decided that punishing me was an arousing and necessary thing..."

"So, what are you saying, Murphy?"

"I'm saying that you name it, he did it."

"Murphy," Nicholas said, and my heart hammered at how pained he looked at what I was telling him about my ex-fiancé. "Are you saying that he...?"

"Raped me? Yeah," I replied.

Nicholas dragged his hands through his hair. "So, you're saying that you did all this for me?" he asked then, never taking his eyes off me.

I nodded, unbuttoning my shirt slowly, and showing him that ink emblazoned over my heart. "I don't suppose you saw this last night?"

Nicholas's eyes widened as he stepped towards me then, putting his hand on it and tracing it lightly with his finger, and it made me shudder. "I didn't see it," he said softly then, raising his eyes back to mine. "What does this mean?"

I sighed, looking away. "Jesus, Nicholas... Do I have to spell it out for you?"

He sighed. "I think I'd like you to, yeah."

I let out a sob, raising my eyes to his then. "It means I've missed you, these nearly two years you've been gone," I whispered to him.

My husband lightly cupped my face. "I missed you, too."

I melted into his touch then, finding that I couldn't break my gaze away from his as my lips parted once more to speak. "I love you..."

Nicholas looked shocked at that. "You never said it first before."

I shook my head at him again. "I never could," I whispered. "But, when I think I'm about to lose everything, it's time to put all my cards down on my table, and say what I've always been afraid to say to anyone..."

He let go of my face then, stepping a few feet away from me, dragging his hand over his face as he mulled over my words thoughtfully in his mind. "I see..."

"Do you still love me?" I whispered, my voice trembling, for fear that, after all this time, Tommy would've been right, and that Nicholas would forget me and stop loving me. "I know it's a long shot, but, despite everything, do you still love me, Nicholas?"

"I never stopped loving you, Murph," he replied, his eyes filled with years of pain, and the hurt we'd caused on both sides of the coin. "Do you even want me to come home?" Nicholas asked, and those words seemed to finally wake me up completely, from my half-asleep state I'd been in since he left me. "Do you still want us to be a family?"

I raised my eyes to his then; the hesitation emanating from me was palpable. I knew there was no need to hesitate when you knew the right answer, when the father of your children and the man you still loved stood in front of you.

Slowly, I found my lips forming into a smile then, and as Nicholas waited for my answer, just a few feet away from me. The silence passing between us was not uncomfortable, but a well-worn one of a couple who is just finding their way again. And, in those moments of silence that followed, something seemed to tell my husband he already had it, as he had always had my answer, despite us being separated.

What's a girl to do? There was only one thing to do, as far as I was concerned. The only thing this girl could do was turn into a woman as quickly as possible, before it was too late to lose everything a second time.

"It's been a hell of a life, Murph," Nicholas said, calling me back to the moment at hand, and I locked my eyes with his.

"Hell of a life," I said, and I nodded at him, permitting myself to speak for the first time. "And it's not over yet," I replied, and reached out my hand towards him, my wedding ring caught between my fingers. "Not over yet."

Nicholas lowered his eyes to my hand, hesitating for a moment, knowing that his answer would make or break everything. He raised his eyes to mine for a moment, and I found that his wavering frightened me completely. However, my heart continued to hammer in my chest then, waiting for a refusal or an acceptance, as he took a step towards me.


	13. Epilogue: Better Late Than Never

Epilogue: Better Late Than Never

"Kids, breakfast!" I called upstairs, sticking a piece of buttered toast in my mouth and chewing it as Iana, Clayton, and Fionn came downstairs. I smiled then as Iana led two-year-old Carla by the hand, and immediately stepped forward, picking her up and kissing each of my children's foreheads in turn. "Breakfast is on the table, troops," I said, lifting Carla into her highchair as my three school-aged children got into their seats.

"Eggs in a nest, right?" Iana asked, grinning up at me, and I nodded, feeling amazed that my little girl wasn't so little anymore. At nine, she was two grades ahead, putting her into sixth grade classes, making me and her Uncle Lip very proud.

"Come on, Carla," I said to my youngest, and spooned up some oatmeal for her, which she willingly took, her dark brown eyes gleaming at its taste. She was the only one of my four children who looked like a miniature version of me and Ian, complete with her own copper locks, which seriously made her stand out when it came to children her own age. Of course, that could all change, if I really wanted to pull a Frank and have more children...

"Big day today," Iana said quietly, and locked eyes momentarily with me before turning to Clayton and Fionn, making sure they were eating their breakfast. "You can dip the edges of your bread _into_ the yolk, you know..."

"Yeah, it is a big day, Iana," I replied, continuing to feed Carla as I went over and over my closing arguments in my head, in my most complicated trial yet. Representing your own husband was one thing, and prosecuting against the man who had tortured you for over two years was another. Today, I would be seeing my biggest challenge yet—getting a hardened criminal's charges dropped, and convincing the jury that he was a changed man, despite the fact that I'd run a diner for the last several years, so I was a bit rusty in a courtroom...

"Is everyone going to be there?" she wanted to know.

I smiled. "Well, considering you've got permission to write a report about it for school, I think it's safe to say that you'll be there, sweetheart."

Iana gleamed—anything to get her out of a couple of hours of school. She was incredibly bright, my daughter was, but public education bored her, and I'd seen some private school pamphlets on some of her bedroom furniture, but—although money was no object, as my salary could cover it, and she could easily get an academic scholarship—after what had happened with Liam, I was a little reluctant to allow her to go that route.

"Hey, no dawdling," I warned them, getting to my feet and bringing Carla's oatmeal bowl to the sink, and turned around then when she banged the spoon, hard, onto the tray. "Carla Deborah Blomqvist, what am I going to do with you?"

Carla shrugged. "Search me," she replied.

I scoffed at her, retrieving a baby wipe and bringing it to her, wiping the excess bits of oats from her face and pulling her out of her highchair. "Okay, I'm going to get her dressed. Iana, I need to jump in the shower when I'm done, so could you come upstairs in five minutes and watch her for me, please?"

Iana nodded. "Sure, Mom."

I leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Thanks," I whispered, turning to the boys. "And you," I said, kissing Clayton's head, "and you," I went on, kissing Fionn's, "need to get upstairs and get ready yourselves. You may only have today left of school, but first grade is important."

Clayton nodded. "Okay."

Fionn sighed, slumping in his seat. "Sure."

"Awesome," I said, turning and walking upstairs.

I went into the nursery down at the end of the hall and immediately set Carla down onto the bed, grabbing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts for her, along with a pair of sandals. Hurrying, as I had limited time that morning, I changed her and then got her dressed, before doing my best to organize her diaper bag, vowing to begin potty training her over the summer. I had nothing to lose at this point, right?

"I'm ready to watch her, Mom," Iana said, standing in the doorway of the nursery.

I turned around and smiled at my oldest daughter, crossing over to her and kissing her forehead for what must've been the millionth time. "You're an angel—thank you," I said, hauling off my robe as I walked down the hallway to the master bedroom, and hanging it up on the other side of my door. I shut the door behind me, pulling off my own T-shirt and shorts that I'd worn to bed, and brought my cell into the bathroom with me, checking for messages as I adjusted the water temperature of the shower.

A text from Ian greeted me, and I smiled when I read it.

 _We're getting ready for court_! _Got confirmation from the brood—Fi, Lip, Debs, Carl, and Liam are all set to be there, and—who knows_? _—maybe Frank will even show up_!

I laughed then at the notion of our families showing up, and quickly wrote him back. _Great_! _We need to be there at a decent hour—I don't want the judge or the jury to have a bad impression of me, haha. Jumping into the shower now—see you with Iana in two hours_!

I set my phone down onto the bathroom counter beside the sink and got into the shower, and quickly adjusted the temperature again, the only thing I wanted to feel was cool water hitting my skin in all my hot areas. I dipped my head beneath the water, remembering how I'd used showers to distract myself from the escapades that Nicholas and I had gotten into during our early days at the firm, and remembered how simple everything was then...

I shook my head then, cutting my mind off. "Fucking complicated," I whispered to myself, and made a grab for my shampoo bottle. "Fucking complicated, because you had trust issues and romance issues, and you didn't think you were worthy of love..." I shook my head again, rubbing my scalp as my hands were filled with shampoo, wanting to momentarily enter oblivion as I forced myself to focus on getting ready.

I got out of the shower a few minutes later, wrapping myself in a towel after doing a makeshift job of drying my hair. I knew the summer heat would take care of the worst of it, giving me plenty of time to work a brush through it before we had to leave the house. I trooped back into my bedroom, getting a knee-length skirt and button down shirt from my closet—both hand-me-downs from Fiona—and feeling proud that I'd reached the last stage of being a Gallagher, hand-me-downs, letting me know that I was a permanent part of the family who wasn't going to go anywhere, officially this time. Smiling to myself as I hurried to get everything on, I stepped into a pair of heels and returned to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Once that task was done, I hurried to my bedroom door and opened it, relieved that Iana was just entertaining Carla, and that the latter wasn't crying. "Okay, you," I said, stepping down the hallway and scooping up Carla again. "Time for you to get dressed."

Iana nodded. "Okay," she said, moving down the hallway. "The boys are already getting them dressed because I told them to."

I let out a short laugh then. "Thanks, baby."

"No problem," Iana replied, going into her bedroom.

Shaking my head, I returned to my bedroom then, sitting on the edge of my bed with Carla in my arms, checking my phone again. There was nothing from Nicholas, which wasn't so unusual, as when he did these assignments, he could go off the grid for up to weeks at a time. I knew it was confusing for my children not to have him around, but I tried to make the best of it, with Ian filling in as surrogate father as often as he could.

Finally, all my children were ready, and I set to work with attempting to carry Carla, her bag, and my bag at the same time. Since Iana only had her backpack that day—filled with her iPad to type up her report, some books, and a few non-messy and mom-approved snacks—she took pity on me and took her little sister's bag herself. I walked outside, pulling the door shut and locking it behind us, and into the summer sunshine. I reached into my pocket for my keys, clicking open my red minivan and feeling pleased when the doors clicked and rolled open automatically, the boys getting into the back, and Iana getting into the seat next to Carla's. I strapped in my youngest, feeling relieved that Iana was there for her, and shut up all the doors before getting into the driver's seat.

My first stop was dropping Carla off at daycare, and then to the local elementary school to drop off the boys. Once those stops were made, the course was set directly for the courthouse, and I could see Iana was giddy with anticipation. Shaking my head as we pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, I momentarily looked at the house across the street, and hoped that Ian would be on time that day. He had to be—he was a character witness, after all, and although he had already testified, this case meant as much to him as it did to me.

Carla's drop-off took almost no time at all, with Rebecca greeting her with open arms, and then came time to drop the boys off at school. Once I pulled up outside, I gave them each five dollars for lunch—I'd decided to let them buy it, as it was the last day of school, and there was rumored to be ice cream for sale in the cafeteria. As I drove towards the courthouse, I felt anticipation flowing through me then—I wanted this trial to go in favor for us, more than anything, as it would rectify everything unsaid between Ian and I from the time I'd known who I was. Now, it seemed, the conclusion was just on the horizon, and I couldn't mess it up.

"Mom?"

I looked back into the mirror then, locking eyes with Iana. "Yeah, sweetheart?" I replied, trying my best to sound calm, cool, and collected.

"It's gonna be okay," she said, smiling at me "Really. You're good at your job. He understands that—that's why he asked you to help."

"Are you gonna be okay?" I ask her then, suddenly annoyed with myself that I hadn't asked her reaction to the whole thing. "I mean this whole situation is..."

"Fucking complicated?" Iana asked.

"I...you!" I said, grinning back at her. "You know that you're not supposed to talk that way until you're thirteen, little miss."

Iana grinned. "But thirteen-year-olds are in eighth grade. I'm nine, and I'm in sixth grade, but I don't want to be..."

I sighed. "Okay," I said, going through the intersection after the light changed. "We've got the summer ahead of us, so here's what we're going to do. We're going to get you evaluated and figure out what grade or classes are appropriate for you. Then, once we have the official word, we'll go through those pamphlets and find a private school. All right?"

Iana blinked, shocked. "Really?" she asked.

I nodded at her. "Really," I replied. "We'll let the experts decide."

Iana mulled that over for a moment. "How old were you when you graduated?"

"High school?" I asked, letting out a laugh then, as all of it seemed like a lifetime ago. "I was fifteen when all that went down..."

"And college?"

"Twenty-one," I replied. "I had my Master's Degree."

"Did you like it?"

"School?" I asked, shrugging. "Yeah, I mean, it was a distraction..."

"From what?"

I locked eyes with my daughter again, and hesitated. "Well, let's just say that when I was growing up, I didn't live with Uncle Ian or Aunt Fiona. I lived on the other end of the country, with a different family. I was adopted, and it didn't go so well..."

"Why?"

I smiled at her. "I'll tell you when you're older," I replied.

We reached the courthouse shortly thereafter, and Iana and I piled out of the car. After securing my bag on my arm, I kept Iana's hand in mine as we walked towards the steps, and I found that I remembered pretty much screaming my identity to Ian, and smiled to myself for a moment. I found that there were so many memories associated with this place, and yet I forced myself not to get overly emotional as we walked up the steps and inside.

"Look, there's Uncle Ian," I said, spotting him at the other end of the hallway. "And do you see who's with him?"

As we stepped closer, Ian grinned when he saw us, and the man standing with him turned around, his silvery eyes meeting ours, and he too grinned at the two of us. "Hey!" he said, bending down and opening his arms for Iana, who flew into them. "Missed you," he said, his tone affectionate then as he kissed her on the cheek.

"Who would've thought that you would actually like kids, Mickey?" I said, shaking my head at him as I stepped forward, accepting Ian's hug. "Still," I went on, as Mickey handed Iana over to Ian and as I accepted his hug, "this is still a pretty weird situation."

Mickey grinned pulling back. "Hey, I never knew I'd even like kids," he said, looking over at Ian holding onto Iana. "But, I don't know... Seeing Fire Crotch holding onto my kid like that..." He shrugged then, and Ian and I shared a grin, as Iana's eyes widened. "...I think I'm in agreement that it's a pretty beautiful thing..."

Iana's brows knit together as Ian set her down. "Mom, I thought that crotch was—"

"And you're absolutely right," I said, cutting her off and giving a mock-glare to Mickey, who threw up his hands.

Ian fixed him with a look, mock-seriousness etched into every bone of his face. "Papa Mickey is going to apologize now."

"Hey, sorry," Mickey said.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "You're awful," I replied.

Mickey grinned. "Just don't bring tequila into it," he said.

"Can we not bring up Mexico? Please?" Ian asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I realize that we've been over and over your state of inebriation at the time, but it's still a pretty difficult subject for me, thinking about my twin sister and the love of my life that way. I don't care if tequila was a factor or not... Just, please don't bring it up..."

"Is that a happy drink?" Iana wanted to know.

Mickey looked at me. "A happy drink?"

"A-L-C-O-H-O-L," I said, giving him a look.

"Right, yeah," he said, turning to look at Iana. "A happy drink is something you can't talk about until you're eighteen, and drink legally until you're twenty-one."

"Mick," Ian said, giving him a look.

"What? I'm imparting my wisdom on my daughter," Mickey replied.

"Yeah, but you didn't wait until you were twenty-one," I put in.

Ian scoffed. "Like I said, Murph, not a lot to do in the South Side."

I checked my phone then, feeling anxious all over again. "They should be calling us in soon. I guess give or take five minutes..."

"Shit," Mickey whispered.

"Mick," Ian and I said together.

"Jesus—you two really are twins," he muttered, looking around. "I need a smoke..."

"No smoking—it'll just stress you out," I said, stepping forward and adjusting his suit jacket. "I mean, in all fairness, I picked out this suit, and I certainly don't want to be smelling your cheap-ass cigarettes during the verdict..."

Mickey smirked, looking around as the main doors opened, and Fiona, Lip, Debbie, Carl, Liam, and Franny all came inside. "Here they come," he said softly.

I nodded, as the courtroom door opened.

"Mikhailo Milkovich versus Cook County Department of Corrections?" the bailiff asked.

I stepped forward. "I'm Murphy Gallagher, his attorney," I said, placing my hand on Mickey's shoulder in a secure manner. "We're all here for Mickey."

"We're ready for you now," the bailiff replied.

I bit my lip, and forced myself to nod. "Thank you," I replied, and the bailiff returned back into the courtroom.

"Can we get a minute here?" Mickey asked.

Ian nodded, taking Iana's hand. "Sure," he said, and he and the rest of our family walked past us and into the courtroom. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered.

I smiled, nodding at him at the doors shut behind them, and as I turned to Mickey. We mutually hesitated for a moment before I embraced him then, holding onto him. "You know we all love you, Mick. You're my brother, period—and my bitch of a half-sister deserved what she got, in my opinion. No matter what happens today, if it doesn't go our way, we'll appeal the shit out of the system, until they have to drop all the charges..."

Mickey chuckled. "You got Ian back for me..."

I sighed, pulling back then and shaking my head. "I didn't do that, Mickey. Love did." I felt myself shrugging then. "Trev—he was a nice guy, in the beginning, but I didn't sense the passion within him whenever you were brought up. It just wasn't the same, and after he turned me into the cops...just, fuck no. And I'm so happy that we were able to get you back, safe and sound. And you've been great with Iana..."

"She's my kid," Mickey said. "Of course I would be. With Yevgeny... Sure, I cared about him, but I was never sure he was mine. Iana's no mistaking it—she's a Milkovich."

I smiled at him. "Rethinking your decision to allow Nicholas to adopt her?"

He shook his head. "Fuck no," he replied. "I know she's mine, and you both know that she's mine, and so does Ian. We all know, and you let me see her, and she's in my life, and knows who I really am. That's enough for me."

I nodded then, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. "Come on," I said, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Let's get you the fuck outta here."

. . .

"Extreme emotional distress as affected by a third person," Mickey said, trying not to laugh as Judge Whitmore returned to chambers. "That's a new one."

"But it fucking worked," I said, grinning at him. "You're free."

"Thanks to you," Mickey said, shaking his head at me, hesitating for a moment before yanking me into his arms for a hug. "Thanks, Murph. Really."

"Hey, like I said since we got you back here, you're family. You're my brother," I said, holding him back and trying not to cry.

"Not yet," Mickey replied, pulling back and winking at me, and I gave him a thumbs-up as he turned towards Ian, who stepped through the gate separating then, taking ahold of his tie and kissing him.

"For a moment there, I was freaking out," Ian said, grinning over Mickey's shoulder at me. "But I knew Murphy would make it right."

I nodded. "I promised you," I said, smiling at him. "I promised you I would get your love back to you after I saw Nicholas. I kept my promise."

Mickey sighed, reaching into his breast pocket of his suit. "Look, Fire Crotch," he said, and Fiona smirked, moving to cover Iana's ears, "this has been a long time coming, and if I don't say it now, I don't think I ever will."

Ian's brows knit together. "Say what?"

"This," he said, smirking at Ian and yanking out the small, rectangular, cardboard box from his pocket, and opened it, the understated, silver band staring back at Ian. "Marry me."

Ian raised his eyebrows. "Are you kidding me, Mick?"

Mickey shook his head. "Not kidding."

A slow smile crept onto Ian's lips. "Of course I will," he said.

Mickey grinned at Ian, grabbing the ring from the box and putting it onto Ian's finger, while I carefully slipped closer, handing Mickey his ring in a conspiratory kind of way. "Thanks," he said, giving me a grin all my own before turning back to Ian, where he hesitated one last time before putting his hand behind Ian's head, pulling him at full-force towards him, kissing him for all he was worth.

"I have one more surprise for today," I said, after they'd been going on for a while and, when they finally stopped their PDA, I grinned, taking something out of my briefcase then, and showing them the printed out piece of paper I'd had laminated. "I got ordained," I said, letting out a small giggle then.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. "You serious?"

"Look, let's face it, we had Whitmore in our pockets immediately after he agreed to take the case, and even if, for some reason, we didn't get the verdict we wanted, I wanted to be able to make this day special for you," I said. "So, let's go back to the house, and have a wedding, Gallagher style. If that's what you want."

Ian turned and looked at Mickey. "I'm game if you are, Mick."

Mickey nodded. "I've been game for a long time, Ian. Let's do it."

We drove faster than lightning back to the house, at first not even thinking about bothering to change out of our court clothes, but ultimately decided to be ourselves for that day. I hurried back to my house, getting Iana changed and into something more comfortable, just a little saddened that Clayton, Fionn, and Carla wouldn't be there for the day, but a text from Fiona alleviated my sadness, as she informed me that Jimmy was picking them up. She also said that Kev and V were closing The Alibi early that day to be there specifically for it, and I smiled to myself, pulling on a pair of black shorts, and a white ruffled blouse.

Iana didn't need any help getting ready, and I thought she looked lovely in her peach-colored skirt and white peasant shirt. I took her hand in mine as we made our way down the stairs, through the front door, and across the street, springs in both our steps. I stopped walking, just as we were about to pass through the gate, and she followed suit, looking up at me.

"Look, sweetheart," I said, bending down so that I was eye-level to her, "I really meant what I said—about telling you when you were older. About my past."

Iana nodded. "I know, Mom."

I smiled. "I'm glad."

"And about Tommy, too?" she asked.

I sighed. "You figured out me being sick wasn't the full story?"

Iana grinned slightly. "Maybe."

I rolled my eyes, straightening up the as I tousled her raven hair. "You're so like your father, Iana Phillipa Gallagher-Blomqvist," I muttered.

"Which one?" she asked.

I scoffed. "You're terrible," I said, grabbing her hand again as we ran up the stairs and into the house, bursting forth, as Iana ran inside to stand with Franny. "Hey, groom and groom," I said, smiling at both of them. "We all ready?" I asked, looking around.

Ian and Mickey stood before me, with Fiona and Jimmy—plus their son, James, and Fiona's hand on her swollen belly, which she had told me was a daughter, whom they'd decided to name Murphy—just beyond; plus Lip, Debbie and Franny, Carl, Liam, Iana, Clayton and Fionn, Carla, who was in Lip's arms, plus Kev, V, Amy, and Gemma. I smiled at them all in turn, as they did so to me, and I turned back to the groom-to-be and groom-to-be, raising my eyebrows at the both. It had come to this, and I wasn't about to start until they were ready.

"Ready," Ian said.

"Same here," Mickey put in.

"Well, everyone, good afternoon," I said. "We are all here to celebrate the union of Ian Gallagher, and Mickey Milkovich. Sometimes, love is a long time coming, especially if you're not ready for it. Life is funny sometimes, bringing people together, sometimes when you least expect it to happen, even for yourself. All I can say is, never in my life have I seen a couple so beautiful, or so in love, than Ian and Mickey. Ian, as your twin sister and best friend, I have never been happier for you than I have in this moment. Mickey, our relationship may have started out complicated, but it's now on a high note that I call you my brother. I love you both very much, and I'm so happy that we're all here today. Ian," I said, turning towards him, "do you take Mickey to be your husband?"

"I do," Ian replied.

"Mickey, do you take Ian to be your husband?"

Mickey grinned. "I do."

"Great," I said. "Now that we've got all the legalities out of the way, by the power given to me by the State of Illinois—and the internet—I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss your husband," I said, grinning at them.

Without hesitation this time around, Ian and Mickey stepped towards each other, their arms winding around one another, as they kissed. It was a kiss that wasn't quick or innocent; it was yielding, completely. One that wouldn't be broken so quickly, and I remembered what it had been like to be kissed like that, and wondered, of course, when it would happen for me again. I nodded at Fiona then, dashing the thought from my mind, as she crossed the room, turning on the stereo, the beat pumping, as I watched my family dance from my own corner of the room, happy that they were happy, and not evening knowing what tomorrow would bring, but life had a funny way of being there for you sometimes and, at that moment, life came calling.

"What did I miss?"

I turned automatically at the voice then, and there stood my husband, and my heart went out to him then as I crossed the room, throwing myself into his arms, and kissing him. "Not much," I replied, grinning up at him.

Nicholas laughed. "I knew I said I'd be here sooner, to see your last court case in action, but my flight was delayed."

I shook my head. "It's fine," I told him. "At least you're home."

"Dad!" Iana cried, pushing through the crowd, and jumping into Nicholas's arms.

"Iana, sweetheart!" Nicholas said, kissing her forehead.

"Daddy?" Clayton and Fionn said, almost in disbelief, as they stumbled forward, remembering Nicholas mainly from pictures.

"Boys!" Nicholas said, bending down and hugging them both.

"There is someone you need to meet," I said. "Well, two people, actually, but..." I broke away from him then, taking Carla from Lip then as I crossed the room, walking towards Nicholas, whose eyes warmed at who I was holding. "Nicholas, this is Carla, our daughter. Carla, this is your daddy."

"Hi, Daddy," Carla said, smiling.

Nicholas stepped forward then, taking Carla into his arms. "This is Carla?" he said. "She's so big. I didn't know how long it had been..."

"Three years since we conceived her," I said quietly.

"That's crazy," Nicholas said, kissing her forehead, and while she appreciated the attention, she wanted to go off and dance again after her siblings, so Nicholas reluctantly lowered her back to the ground. Looking into the crowd, he saw Ian and Mickey dancing together. "I take it you were able to get him released?" he asked, grinning.

I nodded. "You're right. This is actually their wedding."

Nicholas raised his eyebrows. "They're married?" he asked, nodding to Mickey, and Mickey nodded back. Nicholas then took my hand, pulling me though the living room, into the kitchen, and out the back door. "Who married them? Judge Whitmore?"

I laughed aloud then and shook my head, amused that he wanted to be alone with me, after all this time. "Yours truly."

Nicholas shook his head, smirking. "Got ordained, didn't you?"

I laughed again. "I may have..."

Nicholas put an arm around my waist then, pulling me towards him, and kissed me, whereupon I threw my arms up and around his neck, my heart thundering in my ears—thundering with happiness, and, thankfully, not from fear. "I'm here to stay," he confirmed as he slowly, reluctantly, broke the kiss.

I blinked. "You're staying?"

He nodded. "I am. My work is done for the police."

I smiled. "That's fantastic!"

"I take it I'm welcomed back home?"

"Of course you are," I replied. "I said as much to you in the desert, Nicholas. I love you, and I want you to come home."

"I recall you said that to me _both_ times," he said, chuckling a little then, and I felt my cheeks flush then. "Last Easter. You just missed me too much, didn't you?"

I rolled my eyes. "I can neither confirm or deny that."

"Well, confirm that you're happy that I'm home for good—"

Just as he said the final word, I yanked him towards me then and kissed him, my mouth opening beneath his without hesitation, loving the feeling of his hands on me. "I do, I do, I do," I replied, not wanting to ever stop kissing him. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I never want you to go again, Nicholas."

He smiled. "I'm glad, because I'm not going anywhere."

I sighed. "It'd be difficult for you to leave in the first place," I said tentatively, "especially with six pairs of hands trying to stop you."

"Six pairs?" Nicholas asked, laughing then. "Have you decided to hire a nanny? Or is one of your siblings coming to live with us?"

I smirked slightly then, and shook my head. "Neither."

Nicholas searched my face then, shocked. "Murphy, what are you telling me?"

I found that I was unable to stop smiling. "Take a while guess."

Nicholas stammered then, a laugh escaping his lips. "You serious?"

I nodded. "Completely," I said, "and, believe me, it was just as much a surprise to me as it is to you. I took the test this morning before I went downstairs to make breakfast for the kids. Looks like this kid is coming around the time of Clayton and Fionn's seventh birthday."

"And you want it?" he asked.

I smiled up at him. "Of course I do," I replied. "There were five Gallagher kids, before they knew about Sammi, or about me. And you know what? What's the harm in us having five? I certainly don't see one."

Nicholas grinned. "So, it's official? We're having another baby?"

I nodded. "It's official. We're having another baby."

He reached into his pocket then, retrieving my wedding ring then, and slipping it back onto my finger. Mimicking him, I retrieved his from my own pocket and slipped it onto his finger. "I love you, Murphy."

"I love you, too, Nicholas," I replied.

Nicholas turned and looked through the kitchen door and into the living room. "I like it," he said quietly, and I turned to look at him.

"What?"

"The house. Looks like a family lives here," he said with a smile.

I grinned up at him. "Not what you expected, huh?"

Nicholas turned back to me and smiled. "It's better," he said quietly.

"Better?" I asked. "Really?"

"Really," he said, tilting my chin up. "All of it has been...better."

I smirked. "Has it?"

"It has been. And it's all been worth it, for a clean record, and all that. And when I go back to the firm in September, I'll be sad that you're not going to be next door in your office waiting for me, Murph, but you're doing good things with Patsy's. It makes you happy, and that's all I want for you, and for us—happiness."

"That's all I want, too," I said.

"I'm in this, Murphy," he said, taking my hands in his. "For good."

"Forever," I replied.

Nicholas smiled, putting his forehead against mine. "I'm never gonna stop loving you."

"Then don't," I replied. "Don't stop loving me," I said, my heart entering my throat then as he pressed his lips to mine.

"Get a room!" Ian said from inside the house. "Get a room and come dance!"

I laughed aloud then, pulling Nicholas back into the house then, the music pumping in our ears, as I moved to dance with everyone in turn, not wanting to forget anyone, not for a moment. I was caught up by Ian after a few moments, and I threw my arms around him, laughing aloud, as loudly as he did, the notion that we'd finally achieved the ultimate happiness on the same day, at almost the exact same moment, not lost on either of us. When he finally lowered me to the ground and just danced with me somewhat normally, I found I could not stop smiling.

"Gallagher's," Ian said, looking over my shoulder at Mickey for just a moment before returning his eyes to mine.

I laughed aloud again. "Gallagher's," I replied, turning to look over at Nicholas, before I turned back to Ian, and knew that we neither of us would stop smiling for a long time afterward.

THE END


End file.
